


For you then, for her now

by nightwindcreations



Series: Her Father's Eyes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, BAMF Anthea, BAMF John, BAMF Mary, BAMF Sherlock, Child Abuse, Children, Christmas Fluff, Epic Friendship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Torture, Nightmares, No Johnlock, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Parent Death, Parentlock, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Sherlock, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, mention of non-con, not even if you squint, questionable parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwindcreations/pseuds/nightwindcreations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is back, and there is a reason he has been gone so long</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't ship Johnlock, so if that is what you are looking for sorry.  
> there are warnings for future chapters, and i may need to add more.

John is still yelling at him, he looks like he wants to say something, there is nothing to say. After being dead for three years, what can he say? They are standing in the alley. Part of John’s mind goes to taking stock of his friend, the black eye, the bleeding lip, he did that. He doesn’t look like John thinks he should, he looks stronger, almost healthy, for the first time, well, ever. That is part of what John hates about him, he may have been able to forgive a man that was barely keeping himself together, but to see that Sherlock didn’t even need him, is almost too much to bear.

“I did need you, I have always needed you John, and I needed you alive," Sherlock says, as if reading his mind "would you have been able to forgive me, if you had survived while Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade died, because of my inaction?” He starts to say more but he is cut off by a child screaming. John watches his friend change in a way that he has never seen before; he spins and runs as fast as he can, a look of sheer panic on his face.  
John is hot on his heels, without thinking, he follows. He briefly wonders why he is letting the man that hurt him so badly lead him this way, why he is following him again, so willingly. As they exit the alley, John sees where Sherlock is headed, with no regard to his own safety. A man holding a toddler and trying to cover her mouth, it is late enough that most people won’t even notice the scene, except for the man that looks at them with murder in his eyes.  
The other man is trying to get away from Sherlock, but Sherlock is moving like a man possessed. The other man drops the baby and John is instantly there, grabbing the frightened child and trying to shield her, she is still screaming and trying to get away.  
Some time later, Sherlock comes over to them and looks her over, she seems to calm at his presence, John has no idea how long he has been struggling with the little girl, but he is trying to wrap his head around why the little girl is so much calmer.

“John, please call Lestrade. That thing over there” he waves his hand dismissively at the unconscious man on the ground as he takes the little girl out of his hands “may wake up, and when he does, he will either be in the hands of the Yard or my brother. I would prefer NSY, I may need to know why he is here and what he wants” the cold anger in his voice combined with the way he is holding the baby, under his coat with one hand cradling her head to his chest, and the other wrapped around her small body, his lips pressed to into her dark curls leave John reeling at the implications.  
He looks over the child; guessing her to be about two, dark curls, pale face, her eyes are closed but it doesn’t take much imagination to know what those eyes look like, as they are staring at him from his best friends face. He runs his hand over his face, now he knows why his best friend has been taking care of himself but there is so much going on he can’t seem to process all of it right now.  
Sherlock’s closes his eyes as he holds his daughter, trying to calm himself as well as the little girl. He straitens and starts looking around something between anger and frantic nerve guiding him, “where is she?” he growls “how could she have left you alone”

“daddy” a little voice coos under his chin “I scared daddy”

“I know angel, I know, but daddy is here” he whispers back to her.

John sees Mycroft’s PA come running up to them, blood streaming from a gash over her eye, bruises just starting to darken over her face, and she is holding her arm at an odd angle, more blood pooling between her fingers. Sherlock spins to face her, anger written on every inch of his body. John reaches over and grabs his best friends arm before he can start. He knows she put up a fight to try to stop the man from taking the little girl, but he also sees Sherlock’s face and knows that he isn’t coherent. Sherlock looks down at him, his rage turned on him now, before he realizes who he is.  
He stops cold, looking over John’s head. John turns to see Mary walking up to them, taking in the whole scene as she does.  
She reaches out to Sherlock and he places the little girl in her arms, without a word spoken between them, she carries her gently away, talking soothingly to her as she does, telling her everything she is doing. Lestrade, Mycroft, and the ambulance pull up at the same time.

“Rebecca?” is all Mycroft says. Both Sherlock and Anthea nod their heads, Sherlock points over to Mary holding the little girl. Lestrade is flustered, trying to figure out what to do, or what to say.

“I will answer any questions you have, after you have dealt with the man that tried to kidnap my daughter” Sherlock says pulling himself up to his full height, staring Lestrade down, as easily as ever, especially with the confession about the child and the nature of the call.

“are you willing to answer my questions?” John asks beside him.

Sherlock seems to deflate at that, he looks over at his little girl and nods his head.

Mycroft helps Anthea into the car, and they drive away.

As the criminal is loaded onto a stretcher, Lestrade walks over to explain to the medics what happened. Both men nod and become far less careful about the comfort of their patient, they are still professional, but they have lost all concern for the man they are dragging away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mary take Rebecca and Sherlock home  
> John learns some painful facts about the little girl's life  
> Sherlock comes to terms with the fact that she is safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of fluff mixed in with the Angst, before the whole story

Sherlock stalks over to Mary and drops to his knees, he places a hand on his daughter’s back, silently and kisses the top of her head, leaving his lips pressed in her hair again. He looks back at John and asks him “where do you want to have this discussion, though I will need to get Rebecca to bed very soon” 

“her mother?” John asks, falling silent momentarily at Sherlock’s expression, a look of pain that John has rarely seen on the man’s face. “baker street, or our flat?” 

“yours, I haven’t been back to baker street yet. Honestly John, do you think I would see Mrs. Hudson before you?” Sherlock replies trying to sound flippant, but coming off oddly flat. 

Mary nods her head, “we have a spare room, and she can sleep there. I’m sorry if we don’t have anything else she may need” 

Sherlock shakes his head, “she doesn’t need much. She hasn’t really had a chance to have much. Her life so far has been rather, chaotic” he says sadly, stroking her hair, gently.  
A car pulls up next to them, Sherlock lifts his daughter gently out of Mary’s arms and walks over to the car. He opens the door and motions for John and Mary to get in. they climb in the back of another of Mycroft’s cars as Sherlock buckles Rebecca into a baby seat. John watches him amazed that his friend is a father, and to all appearances a good one. 

“daddy” the little girl says softly “story?” 

He smiles fondly at her, “what kind of story would you like me to tell you?” 

She get a familiar look on her little face, the kind that Sherlock does when he is trying to solve a complicated puzzle, and John just can’t help but laugh at his friends expression on her little face. Both sets of pale eyes look at him, before they both give an exaggerated sigh. Sherlock obviously impersonating the little girl, His eyes dancing with amusement, at the playful display. 

Sherlock fills the silence with stories of mighty Super heroes, and evil villains. John and Mary are startled to realize that he is telling her stories of their time together, he recognizes his own blog posts, in the taller man’s bedtime stories. His heart warms to think that he has been telling his baby about him, he looks over at Mary and sees her fond smile. He knows that the little girl has already won her heart. he is sitting in a car with his best friend, and the woman he loves, he always wondered what Sherlock would think of Mary, even though he was “dead” he thought that Sherlock would think her common, and uninteresting. It would appear that he looks at her as an ally, not only for her relationship with John, but now for a more important reason. He reaches out and takes Mary’s hand in his, and smiles as he listens to himself being described as a superhero, in the story of the blind banker.

They pull up to the flat and get out, Sherlock takes out two small bags and a single blanket, he throws them over his shoulder as if he has done so a thousand times, before he unstraps Rebecca and lifts her gently out of the car, she snuggles into him without waking. The sight makes John oddly sad, Sherlock wasn’t kidding about the fact that the little girl doesn’t have much, and the way she sleeps though the somewhat rough treatment without stirring shows just how chaotic her life must have been. Mary’s hand on his arm tightens, she must have noticed the same things. He looks at the little girl, and tries to use the things that Sherlock taught him, to deduce what her short little life must have been like up to this point. The only thing that doesn’t cause him physical pain is her father. The way he holds her, his arm wrapped protectively around her tiny body, the way her chubby little hand grips his coat. The way she leans into him, the way that she calmed instantly when he lifted her, the way she told him she was scared. The way they play together, and tease each other, it is obvious how much she means to him.  
His anger at the thought that she could have been hurt, even attacking the American that hurt Mrs. Hudson, was nothing compared to the blinding fury that crashed over him when he saw someone trying to hurt her. Even his anger at Anthea spoke of how devoted he is to her.  
He looks at her clothes, they are old, and a bit worn, nothing that they can’t easily get rid of, Her little coat just as expendable, no toys that he can see, not in her hand and he can’t see the outline of anything like that in either of the bags over Sherlock’s shoulder, what truly surprises him, is that he doesn’t see any books or anyplace to hold a book. Her life to this point is portable, john tries to find another word for it, but can’t. they have been on the run, that is the only thing this baby knows. He looks at Sherlock, and sees the same thing, everything except his daughter is disposable, he is trying to come to terms with the fact that the man is back, and that he has a child, now he has to come to terms with what that means for this little girl. 

“I am sorry, Sherlock, but we only have the one spare room, so you two will have to share” Mary says to him, Smiling slightly at the little girl. 

“that is fine,” he replies “better than we have had in her entire life, it is safe and warm. John, once I get her into bed I will answer any questions you have”

John opens the door and ushers everyone in, looking around before closing and locking it behind him. He shows Sherlock the bedroom, Sherlock opens one of the bags and pulls out a nappy and warm pajamas, for Rebecca. He sets to work dressing her limp form for bed. John watches as the tall man easily dresses the girl, while she sleeps on his lap.

“yes John” he sighs “there have been many times when I was the only thing between her and the cold ground. She would sleep on my lap with my coat wrapped around both of us. She has gotten used to me dressing her without waking; there have been times that I couldn't stop running long enough to even do that, as well as times that that was the only time we got to stop, but she has always been with me. Since the day she was born, since her mother…” his voice trailed off. he shook his head, and lifted her to the mattress, he ran his fingers over it and smiled.  
“do you realize that this is the first moment that she has ever really been safe, in her life?” he asked his smile bright and warm and yet still somehow a bit sad, or maybe it was John that was sad. he sits down on the bed next to the sleeping child, and looks up at John brightly “I need to get her a toy, as soon as the shops open, she needs a toy. I don’t really care what kind, but she has never had a real toy” his face taking on the animated look, the one that he got when he would solve a truly complex murder. “and Christmas, John! She is going to have a real Christmas, her first real Christmas is going to be in a few days, I have time, do I have time, I have to have time, to buy her presents?” his delight at the idea brought tears to John’s eyes. 

“I think Mary is already planning on spending a month’s salary on presents for her, not to mention when Mrs. Hudson meets her. She is going to get a real Christmas Sherlock; gingerbread, fairy lights, elf-on-a- shelf, everything. I would say she needs it, but we both know that you are the one that needs it.” John says to Sherlock. At Sherlock’s thoughtful nod John can’t help but laugh at him. Who would have ever thought that this man would be such a doting father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again not betaed


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tells John and Mary, Rebecca's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first chapter that needs warnings, there will be others, that include flashbacks and nightmares, but i want them to be able to be skipped, while keeping the story intact. 
> 
> trigger warnings: mentions of; torture, rape/ non-con/ dub-con, drug use, emotional blackmail, character death, violence

Sherlock collapses into a chair “you have questions” he says simply  
“I told you I would answer any questions that you wanted to ask, and I meant that.” He looks up at John and asks quietly “first, let me tell you Rebecca’s story. That is the most important now.”  
“would you like me to leave” Mary asks quietly “this sounds like a private conversation” 

Sherlock shakes his head, “stay or leave, it is of no consequence. There are parts of this story that will not be made public, am I clear.” The look he gives the two of them is a clear warning, and considering his feelings for the child sleeping in the other room, neither of them have any question about his sincerity. 

"First let me say, John, I never meant to hurt you, believe me when I say that I wish there was another way, but Moriarty had snipers trained on three of the five people that I care about. If I hadn’t jumped only Molly and Mycroft would have survived, I couldn’t risk that.  
John, if he had killed the three of you, there would be nothing left for me to live for. When I started to break apart Moriarty’s web, his lover and right hand man Sebastian Moran figured out that I was alive. I made a mistake and he captured me, he took me to America. i apparently wasn’t the only person trying to destroy him, there was a woman, Karen, that he had also taken. We were locked in a small room together, only taken out to be tortured. This lasted for 6 weeks. Until Moran started drugging us while he tortured us, we would steal supplies, like fabric and water whenever he would take us out of the room, anything we could get our hands on. We would bind each other’s wounds as soon as we got back to the cell.  
He knew what we were doing and added that to his game (Sherlock’s voice grows angry, as he speaks) he would tell each of us to do something and if we did, we would gain something maybe medicine or a first aid kit, maybe food, maybe a blanket. It was almost always about letting him do something to us, or doing something to each other.  
Yes, before you ask, much of it was sexual. She wouldn’t let him have sex with her, no matter how badly he hurt her, when I figured out what he was doing, I started letting him take it from me. I tried to spare her that pain, but even that didn’t last for long. 

Then he got the idea that he wanted me to force her. He made it clear that I would have sex with or he would kill her, and he would take what he wanted from her first. He brought us out, in front of him and the rest of Moriarty’s cronies. They put collars on both of us, and chained us down. They would tell us what to do, and how much we were supposed to “enjoy it”, if we didn’t they would beat us; whips, belts, cattle prods, clubs; wherever they could reach at the moment. Several of them would stroke themselves off while we had sex. I tried to shield her, from the blows and from the sight. I had to do something to apologize.  
After the first night, they decided they enjoyed it, and would bring us out “for a show” every night. This went on for months, during that time we found out that she was pregnant. I made her promise not to let him do anything to hurt the baby, she was our reason to stay alive. I would give her most of my food, all of my clothes, everything I had. I tried to take care of her, the best I could. We were both scared about what would happen when Moran found out that she was pregnant.  
(Sherlock’s face took on, a lost expression) it was the only time we really got to be a family, no matter how she started we both loved her from the moment we discovered her. when we would sleep, she would be curled up in my arms, both of us resting our hands on her belly. We managed to hide her for 6 months, Karen never really showed, for which I thank God every day, when Moran discovered her he was thrilled. He had a new weapon to use against both of us, he was going to kill both of them. 

I managed to keep him away from her for another week until we could escape. We didn't have anything to lose at that point, we were going to get away or die trying, the only other option was to wait for our deaths. We made it, both of us were badly injured but we managed to crawl away. The next two months were a blur of running and hiding while we tried stay alive, and kill any of Moran’s men that we ran across, it wasn’t enough. When Rebecca was born, Karen was just too weak, I put Rebecca on her stomach and she kissed her. I reached down to tie off the cord. (he waves his hands) it was over, I kissed her one last time, wrapped our daughter in the cloth and ran.  
We have been running ever since, I managed to get a message to Mycroft three months ago, and he just managed to bring down the rest of the network. We landed in London, this morning. The first time I tried to bring Rebecca back was a year and a half ago, when we got to the airport, Moran was waiting. It was everything I could do to sneak out with her safely. Her entire life has been running, hiding, and trying to survive, I couldn't risk her to try to take them out myself. There were times that I had to. once in Chicago, they almost had us, I ended up killing three men before I could get away. of course since we had to stay off the grid, we were in statistically greater danger, I don’t know if some of the attacks were random or not. All I know is that I had to keep her safe, and now for the first time ever, she is."  
(he laughs at that, the bright smile returns as he realizes that his little girl is finally safe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am home sick right now, there isn't much i can do except write, or annoy boss-type-lady. so i have this chapter and the next. after that i have no idea how often i will get around to updating this


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mary have a couple questions

“What other questions do you have?” Sherlock asks

“So all of Moriarty’s men are gone?” John asks, trying to come to terms with everything that Sherlock has told him

“Irrelevant” Sherlock replies with a wave “Moran is dead, and we are not alone.”

“How can you say irrelevant” Mary asks surprised behind him “I would think that would be very relevant”

“Would you let someone come into this house and hurt her?” Sherlock asks looking her in the eye coldly “John has already proven that he would kill in order to protect me, how much more would he do to protect her?” at the look on her face he nods, “now I am free to destroy them myself, knowing that I have you and John, not to mention Mycroft though I am not sure if I would be willing to trust her to his care again, willing to help me protect her”

“What now?” Mary asks genuine concern in her voice; the story has affected both of them more than they want to say

“Isn’t that obvious?” he asks her. She shakes her head, John smiles knowing his friend has a plan and that nothing will deter him from his chosen course “now we shop for Christmas presents!” Sherlock replies wondering how she possibly couldn’t have figured that part out. Mary laughs delighted by the idea.

“no” John replies “now we go to bed, tomorrow we take Rebecca to meet Greg and Mrs. Hudson, you still need to talk to Greg about tonight, and then if we have time” he raises his hand to stall both of their protests “if we have time, we shop for Christmas presents, and some new clothes” he looks between the two most important people in his life, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out which one is more excited about the prospect of Christmas shopping. He smiles at them and it feels like it is the first genuine smile he has had, in almost 3 years

Sherlock strips down for bed, he is inside, he is warm, he has John back, and he even has Mycroft’s guards surrounding the flat to protect them. He smiles remembering the look on Mycroft’s face when he first saw him in Detroit, after 3 years.  
He hadn’t been able to talk to him much before hand, and he wasn’t willing to risk their safety, just to tell Mycroft about her, so when Mycroft walked into the diner to see Sherlock sitting at a table with a high chair next to him, he looked like a stranded fish.  
Sherlock only told him bits of her story; capture, the pregnancy, the escape, and Karen’s death, but he didn’t go into any detail and he never would. Mycroft managed to call in some favors to get them passports and plane tickets; that was yesterday morning. his plan tomorrow is to introduce his daughter to his favorite people, and after that he is going to take her shopping for toys and books, he will probably be able to talk John into taking her clothes shopping before they go anywhere else.  
All he would have to do is lay out all of Rebecca’s clothes to try to pick an outfit, even if john could resist (and he couldn’t) Mary certainly wouldn’t let her go anywhere until she is properly dressed. He throws on his only clean tee shirt and boxers. Shaking his head, he can get new clothes for himself after Christmas shopping. He climbs into bed cradling his little girl. He sighs, she has slept in his arms every night since she was born, how will she handle sleeping in her own bed? For that matter, how will he? For tonight, he gets to be the daddy he has always wanted to be to her. 

From now on, the nightmares and the monsters are just going to be in her head, they aren’t going to be real. “Oh Karen, do you have any idea how much I wish you were here? We are finally safe, we are free and we are a family, and you are gone” he kisses her dark curls and wraps himself around her little body. Just like he has every other time he has slept, but this time he relaxes completely.

John opens the door silently, and watches the two of them sleep. He listens to Sherlock’s breathing and realizes that he is still awake. He walks over to the chair and sits propping his feet up. “Go to sleep Sherlock, you both need it” he says quietly

“My loyal soldier, standing guard?” Sherlock say; John can hear the smile in his voice. He hears Sherlock shift, and his breathing slows as he drifts off to sleep. Sherlock wakes several times through the night, falling back to sleep as soon as he realizes where he is, and that the man sleeping in the chair next to the bed is John.

John wakes up early, Rebecca is staring at him. Sherlock is still asleep, the little girl seems to be confused by the fact that he is still asleep. John reaches out for her; she tries to hide behind Sherlock scared. John smiles reassuringly, he is trying to think whether he should just leave her or not when Sherlock wakes up a bit and tells her to go with him. She willingly lets him lift her off of the bed. “come on” he says to her “let’s get some breakfast, we have a big day ahead of us” he looks through the bags that Sherlock brought in and sees her entire wardrobe, he looks between the three outfits that she has excluding the one that she wore yesterday, and decides to leave her in pajamas for now. The rest of her clothes are in worse shape than the threadbare thing she had on the night before. He looks through the other bag and finds Sherlock’s clothes; he has less than his daughter, and two small boxes of laundry soap. John sighs, revising the itinerary for the day. They were going to have to do some clothes shopping first. He shakes his head at his friend, “you knew that this was going to happen, didn’t you” Sherlock smiles before turning back over and going back to sleep. John can’t help the laugh that escapes, at Sherlock’s behavior. “but first” he tells the little girl “breakfast!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is all I have written so far. so i don't know when i will post the next chapter


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New clothes, NSY, Baker Street, and St. Bart’s morgue, but first a message from our sponsors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one chapter this time. the first four wrote themselves, this one didn't  
> bonus points, listen to "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas" while they are doing their shopping.

Sherlock walks out of the spare room, and into the kitchen. He strides over to his daughter and kisses her on the top of the head.

There is a knock on the door. He moves to stand between his daughter and any perceived threat, before he remembers where he is both Mary and John react to his posture. John freezes with a hand on the door, Mary tenses ready to grab the girl and run, one of John’s guns next to her hand, until Sherlock nods at him. He opens the door to come face to face with Mycroft’s pretty PA, he can see the outline of stitches under the bandaging on her forehead and her arm is set in an Ortho splint. He nods his head, and steps aside.

She walks in and looks at Sherlock, he glares back only softening slightly seeing her condition. “yes he worked for Moran, no you would not have been able to get any information out of him, and before you ask, yes that is entirely past tense” she says, coldly. 

Sherlock nods his head at her words, “I expected Mycroft wouldn’t allow him to survive, given what he did to you”  
“Not fair Sherlock,” she chastised, softly “your brother does care about you, both of you” she says nodding at the toddler behind him “and” she continues “Mycroft wasn’t the reason that the bastard didn’t survive. Apparently multiple cranial fractures, a ruptured trachea and punctured lung, aren’t as easy to survive as the movies would make it seem, but that is not why I am here. He sent me with these, for you” she says handing him two credit cards, both in Mycroft’s name. “Consider them your Christmas, there will likely be more for her, but her existence was, unexpected. So it will take some time to adjust” she nods at him and glides gracefully around him towards the little girls chair. He watches every movement, warring with himself whether to stop her or not. She leans over and kisses the little girls cheek smiling at her, as she brushes the toddler’s hair out of her face, softly. “I never thought I would be able to do this” she says as she places another kiss on Rebecca’s forehead.

Rebecca sits silently through the display, a fact that none of the adults in the room miss, the child in unusually quiet. As soon as Anthea leaves, Sherlock lifts the little girl and takes her to give her a bath, before dressing her for the day. John brings all of the little girl’s clothes out to the kitchen and looks over the sorry lot. He picks out the best outfit she has and smiles as he bins the rest shaking his head, Mary looks up and asks “would it be better to just burn them?” as she flips over the tag to see what size the little girl wears, frowning as she realizes that the sizes are American, they are just going to have to take her with them. Sherlock walks back into the room and takes the chosen outfit from John, and goes to dress Rebecca. He looks around the room, taking in every detail and drawing hundreds of conclusions, no doubt. He nods when he sees the clothes in the bin, and leaves.

They walk out of the shop, with half of the shop, john thinks ruefully; at least Mycroft is paying for this.  
John, Mary, and Sherlock dump their bags in the boot of the car Mycroft has waiting for them, John smiles at the driver, who just rolls his eyes playfully at the amount of clothing they bought for Rebecca. Sherlock has already dressed the little girl in a navy blue, Christmas dress, tights, Mary Jane’s, and a new coat, her dark curly hair pulled back with a bow, holding a plush purple hippopotamus.

The car drops Sherlock and Rebecca off at the Met, Sherlock asks Mary and John to ensure that Mrs. Hudson will be home when they are done and if they feel up to the challenge, to warn her of what is coming, before he stalks into the building, his daughter still in his arms.

“Is Lestrade in yet” Sherlock asks her, the phone in her hand drops to the floor as she spins around stunned. “Hello Sally” he says calmly.  
Her lips are moving, but no sound is coming out. How could it, when a man that has been dead for three years is speaking to her? Her heart must be beating fast enough for him to hear it. She finally breaks free of the spell long enough to throw her arms around him and whisper “I am so, sorry” into his shoulder. The shoulder opposite the one holding the little girl, something in the back of her head notes. “When you said, when you asked me to, when” she falters, “I am so sorry”

“Yes, you are sorry, yes, it had to be done. Now, please don’t make me repeat my question; we both know how I hate that” she nods wiping a tear out of her eye and points to Lestrade’s office. He lifts the little girl higher on his shoulder and walks in, placing her gently on the chair. Lestrade can’t take his eyes off of her.

“Mycroft already told me about Moran and your time in America, when he told me that the man from last night didn’t make it. So it’s all true.” he says finally looking up at Sherlock. Sherlock just nods, “Mycroft also found the CCTV recordings from the incident last night. I can’t say I would have acted any differently, so I don’t really need a statement, other than to confirm that she is yours” he says nodding at Rebecca, “though with those eyes, and curls, how she could be anyone else’s is beyond me.  
Sherlock, what have you two been through that she is so quiet, and you don’t seem to be able to handle the idea of her even being in a pushchair? This isn’t DI Lestrade asking you this is Greg, your friend asking. She is barely moving and she doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hippo. You look like you are clean, but you are dressed like when I first met you, and you were strung out on God knows what.”

“What we have been through, Dete… Greg, is running for our lives, it is all she knows. I had to learn how to keep her quiet; she had to learn to stay quiet and to stay with me, to scream when someone grabbed her, and to do exactly as I tell her. It was never an option, she would have died, and I couldn’t let that happen. If she had died, well I don’t need to tell you what would have happened” Sherlock answered “as to why she doesn’t know what to do with a toy. That is because she has never had one. Is there anything else?” he finishes as Greg shakes his head, Sherlock picks her up and leaves.

Molly is filling out paperwork when the door opens, “I meant it when I said you matter, you do know that don’t you” Sherlock says behind her. She spins around dropping her pen with an undignified squeak. She looks him over seeing the toddler in his hands she brightens considerably.

“Oh Sherlock, she is beautiful” she says stepping up to the little girl, she reaches out to hug him “I have missed you so much” she says. He pats her awkwardly on the back as she steps back, his eyes dart to her left hand.

“Please tell me that this one isn’t a gay, criminal mastermind” he says teasingly.

She laughs, “no this one is nice, though I thought, oh maybe I should just stop there”

He smiles at her and kisses her on the cheek. “We have to go see Mrs. Hudson now, she still doesn’t know I am alive let alone” he nods at his daughter. “I wish you well, molly Hooper” he says as he leaves.

He steels himself at the door; he runs his fingers over the familiar numbers Rebecca curled up asleep in the crook of his arm, under his coat. He has learned to carry her; one handed, while she sleeps, without waking her. He knows that John and Mary are already there, he doesn’t know if they have told her yet, but it doesn’t matter. Hearing the words “he is alive” are not the same as seeing him standing there.  
His heart beat picks up, there is so much that can go wrong right now,  
she could have a heart attack from the shock (unlikely)  
she could refuse to see them (also unlikely)  
she could have rented out his flat (more likely)  
she could refuse to allow him to move back (even more likely)

His mind races as he reaches up and knocks on the door. He hears her footsteps, he strains his hearing. Footsteps a bit unsteady (she is in a bit of shock, so John did tell her) though they are even (she isn’t used to being quiet, likely the flat is empty) he hears her fumble for the door (not used to opening it for other people, also promising) she isn’t hesitating to open the door, she is simply not used to doing so anymore (so she will likely let him move back into 221b) the door opens and she is standing there, tear-stained eyes, widening in shock at seeing Rebecca (oh, so they didn’t tell her about his daughter) her tears dissolve into a bright smile.

“Oh, you! Just you, look at you” she coos at Rebecca she takes his arm and pulls them inside.

“Sorry Mrs. Hudson” John says, “I did tell you he has changed a bit, I just didn’t tell you how”

she ushers them all into the sitting room. She sits down and Sherlock places the sleeping girl in her arms. The three of them watch, smiling as Mrs. Hudson cuddles with the toddler

“I am afraid to wake her” she whispers to Sherlock.

“You won’t, she is used to being moved while she is asleep, as well as sleeping through noise” he answers softly, stroking Rebecca’s hair.

“How old is she” Mrs. Hudson asks

“Almost 22 months, her birthday is February first” he smiles as he tells her, planning out her birthday party is a luxury he hasn't allowed himself until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the purple hippopotamus was my daughter's favorite toy when she was two, I had to add it. 
> 
> I am aware that i have Written Rebecca's reactions as atypical for her age, the reasons for that will become clear, but i do want to point out in the story that people are noticing that her behavior is strange. have no fear, i will explain.  
> Normally that is one thing that i hate about some parentlock stories, when he author is unfamiliar with basic child development


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Christmas fluff, before it gets bad again  
> John recognizes Rebecca’s behavior as that of a refugee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not especially happy with some of the way this chapter turned out, it feels forced.... maybe because it was. oh well, it is a necessary interlude.

John and Sherlock head up stairs with Rebecca, while Mrs. Hudson bakes and Mary goes out Christmas shopping with one of Mycroft’s cards.

Sherlock’s eyes scan the room carefully before he sets the sleeping girl on the sofa, and covers her with his coat.  
John watching the sleeping child, his mind is putting pieces together they are making a picture he doesn’t even want to think about. He has seen children act like this before, but never in London. She isn’t even 2 yet, so there shouldn’t be much in the way of lasting damage, in her. he looks at Sherlock, he may be a different story. John has already seen some significant changes in his friend, to be fair, not all of them are bad, and not all of them are trauma related. 

due to Sherlock’s insistence on checking every square inch of the flat before he lets his guard down an inch, while John stands where he can hear his friend, while still watching the door and the sitting room. John jumped when he feels something soft and squishy press up against the back of his leg. He spins to see Rebecca, her arms raise hippo in one hand. The hippo must have been what he felt. He laughs, and lifts her up. “sorry love, I didn’t see you there” he says, kissing her on the head.

He looks the little girl over again, she has her dads, eyes, hair, and pale complexion; but John can’t see anything else about her that looks like Sherlock. Her face is soft and rounded; she has perfect little heart shaped lips; her little button nose, nothing like Sherlock’s. He thinks about that.

What must it be like to see your eyes and hair on your lover’s face?

Is that what is going to happen when Mary and I have children?

What must it be like for Sherlock, as the mother of his child is dead? 

To see her face every day, would that be a blessing or a curse?

His mind starts running over what his own daughter would look like, while he cradles the little girl that set those ideas in his head. His reverie is broken when he hears Sherlock’s footsteps on the stairs from his old room. 

“Are you going to keep my old room as it is, or turn it into a room for her?” he asks, looking at Sherlock

“Probably keep it as a spare, until I get used to the idea of her being that far away from me.” Sherlock answers, “We should go and collect her bags of clothes, as Mycroft’s driver was generous enough to help bring them inside”

“He has a little girl not much older than Rebecca. He was talking about her, on the way over from the met.” John answered as Sherlock takes her out of his arms. “I think he is looking forward to helping Mary shop for her Christmas” Sherlock pouts about not being the one to buy her, her presents. John laughs thinking about the argument. Even the great Sherlock Holmes backed down when Mary explained that it would be more fun for Rebecca, if she didn’t know what she was getting.

“Even if she is a baby, she is your daughter, and would remember” Mary had said, Sherlock finally gave in, but left a list of things that Mary was to, and was not to purchase.

John was surprised to find that Mary had talked Sherlock into picking up some clothes for himself, while they were out though his bag was rather small in comparison to each of hers. Sherlock settled Rebecca into the crook of his arm and went down stairs, he grabbed two bags with the hand she was in and loaded up his other arm, and John took the rest of the bags, and followed the pair back upstairs. After watching the two of them for the day, his concerns about their behavior were just continuing to increase. 

Mrs. Hudson brought up a tray of biscuits, John had the kettle on, Mary had gotten food on her shopping trip, and Sherlock was on the sofa with Rebecca; teaching her how to play with her toy. John was trying to figure out how many stores she had, bought out. She apparently had help shopping, in the form of the driver with a toddler; his daughter was going to have an amazing Christmas as well this year, all thanks to Mycroft’s meddling. Mary was telling them that they bought two of everything that his daughter didn’t already have, one for her and one for Rebecca. A fact that everyone in the room found extremely amusing, the thought of Mycroft buying out a toy shop, for two babies, was worth the hassle of carrying all of the bags upstairs. Of course there was the added benefit of the driver doing his best to help bring everything upstairs and load them in John’s old room. John was wondering if Mycroft had picked this driver because he had a daughter the same age, or if it was coincidence. He wouldn’t be surprised either way, knowing Sherlock’s brother. 

John grabbed his phone, and snapped a picture of the elegant, cultured, posh, consulting detective; pouring tea for a purple, stuffed, hippopotamus, and shockingly enough, seeming to enjoy doing so. Sherlock was so absorbed in Rebecca’s chatter that he barely seemed to notice what John had done. 

“Better than the photos of The Hat” Sherlock said, casually. Obviously paying more attention than it seemed. 

Mycroft and Anthea showed up later, with more bags of presents for Rebecca, as well as a large perfectly decorated gingerbread house. Mycroft smirked when he looked into the bedroom holding her Christmas. 

“I see you have made use of my present. Good, that’s good” Mycroft purred “far better than the last time I gave you unrestricted access to money, isn’t it. This is more,” Mycroft paused as if trying to look for the correct word “productive, isn’t it, little brother” 

“You can’t bait me today, Mycroft.” was the simple reply, the only indication, Sherlock would give him, that he was amazingly happy.

He strolled back downstairs, and took something from his room; it looked like an extremely long piece of fabric. Even Mycroft was confused by it, as Sherlock wound it around his body expertly, turning into almost another shirt. Mary looked at John quizzically; John just shook his head. Sherlock’s clever smile brightened by everyone’s confusion before he picked Rebecca up and started to maneuver the fabric around her body, effectively tying her to him. “Did you honestly think that I carried her in my arms, every waking moment, for two years?” he asked, making it sound like the most ridiculous idea imaginable “There were times I couldn’t risk dropping her, but I needed both hands, as well as times that it is just easier to have both hands free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next few chapters are going to take the rating up to Explicit.  
> there is something to be said for the fact that i am curled up in bed sick, while off of work.
> 
> http://www.mobywrap.com/mw/how-to-moby-wrap.htm  
> the "long piece of fabric" is basically this (for anyone that doesn't have children)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (flashback and a favor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: I am not going to hold back much, on flashbacks. This will earn an explicit rating.

After everyone left, Sherlock put Rebecca to bed; she was still gripping the hippo like it may disappear on her.  
He took his shirt off and bent over to get another out of the bag, when it started.

He was bent over a chair, the back of the chair biting into his naked flesh. His arms and legs tied to the chair legs, the chair bolted to the ground. A collar around his neck also bolted to the floor. He could feel Moran behind him. How had he been so stupid to let himself get caught? “I was hoping we would get to meet, little one. Daddy told me so much about you.” The rough voice behind his said. “You are prettier than I thought you would be. But so pale, like you haven’t seen any sunlight, hmm we should fix that, after I introduce you to all of my friends at least” Sherlock felt a sharp pain as a knife snaked across the arch of his right foot, thankfully not into the fragile tendons.  
He screamed when his foot was sliced from heel to toe, expertly avoiding any permanent damage. Crisscross cuts were laid along the sole of his foot, still his right foot. The knife bit in behind his Achilles tendon, cutting through the shallow space.   
His screams of pain and terror catching in his throat, being tied almost upside down, he was close to losing consciousness, but could never quite manage it. Tears streaking across his face and into his hair, from the pain in his foot and the burning in his lungs, body shaking uncontrollably, he had no idea how long they kept him like that before they cut the ropes that held his legs. His body collapsed next to the chair, gasping for breath, he couldn’t see anything though the cloud of pain. He felt the pressure on his wrists give out, and felt the collar grow tight, as he was lifted to his feet by it. He tried to settle all of his weight on his left foot, the one that wasn’t destroyed, but he was being drug along. Every step was agony, as his weight went from the foot that was intact to the bloody mangled mess, it would hurt less if they had destroyed both feet; they knew what they were doing. A door opens; he feels the weight on the collar release as he is tossed into a room. The last thing he feels before the blackness finally takes him is the cold floor and a warm pair of hands. 

He blinks looking into the bag, his hand frozen as he reaches towards it. He grabs the bag and dumps it on the bed, taking the desired clothing from the pile on the bed. He wipes the sweat from his forehead and tries to convince himself the dampness on his cheek is sweat.   
He turns on the shower and strips his shirt, in the mirror he catches sight his back.

He is naked, always naked when he is here, when he gets back to the cage, Karen will have something to throw over his body, after she treats his wounds. The same way he treats her wounds when they are done with her. They lay him over a table, chained to the floor by his wrists and ankles and, and the ever-present collar. They leave the room, they do this sometimes. Sometimes they just leave him there, in the cold, naked and chained like a sacrifice. Sometimes they bring Karen in and strap her to the wall, and make her watch. They do that to him as well; make him watch what they do to her. The door opens, he hears her breathing, higher pitched and nervous. Of course they aren’t nervous.   
“I want you both to remember who you belong to, and why.” Moran says, of course Sherlock can’t see him. “so we are going to play a little game, one daddy taught me” his voice takes on the manic edge that sets Sherlock’s nerves on edge. 

He hears more people come into the room, laughing. He tries to determine what they are planning; it must be sexual, as if that would bother him. Though, he is concerned about what it would do to Karen to see him violated. He is thinking about that when he feels the sharp pain on his hip, a knife cutting in shallow strokes, as Karen struggles and whimpers. She must be gagged he thinks, just as he starts to feel a pointed burn. He screams in pain, only to feel another set of cuts followed by another burn. His mind is reeling with pain; he can’t focus as another set of hand start to do the same thing on his other hip, down his spine. They laugh as Moran comes into view, his naked cock at eye level to Sherlock. 

“now for the really fun part” Moran giggles. His hand stroking his hard member he climbs onto the table and straddles Sherlock’s hips. Sherlock tries to pass out from the pain only to have one of Moran’s men snap him awake with ice water thrown onto his face. “Oh no, none of that, I want you to enjoy this too” Moran says, “it wouldn’t be polite to fall asleep on your lover, now would it, or under your lover? Oh yes and such a good little boy you are, can’t have you and your little whore over there having all the fun can we” Sherlock feels the cuts searing as Moran strokes himself above them, pulling the skin apart. His breath starts to catch as he nears climax.

In the distance Sherlock hears someone screaming, as the darkness starts to take him again, he can’t tell if it is Karen, or if he is the one screaming, but the pain is too much, Moran grabs his hair and yanks his head up, cutting off his breathing. He struggles to try to get a breath, lack of oxygen making every sensation stronger. The pain blinds him, he is gasping for every breath that Moran lets him take when he feels a new level of pain. A final scream cuts through his throat, as he loses consciousness. His only hope is that he won’t wake up from it this time; he knows that, that is a possibility if Moran doesn’t let him breathe again.

He wakes up, with Karen kneeling over him in their cell. she is applying something cold to his back. A warm drop lands on his shoulder; he looks up and sees her crying. The only thing he can think, what would John do? He sits up and reaches for her, he draws her into his arms, the way he saw John draw Sara, when her mother died. Karen closes the salve and leans into him, she wraps her arms around his, as it is the only part of his body not cut or burned. 

Wrapping himself around her body feels good, in a way he never expected. The warmth from her body the press of her skin, even though they are naked, there is nothing sexual about the moment. It is purely about giving and taking comfort.   
He reaches for one of the sheets they have stolen and wraps it around both of them, as he lies down on the bed, his body guiding her, protecting her. He is her shield from the outside world, even if it is only for the moment.

He turns the shower off, and goes to get his mobile. John picks up on the second ring   
“Sherlock we haven’t even made it home yet, what is it” annoyance warring with concern, in his voice.  
“I need a favor, and you are the only one I trust to do this” he says, his voice sounds weak to his own ears, and apparently it sounds just as bad to John, as he hears John say something to the cabbie 

“We will be back in ten minutes” John says softly. 

Sherlock is sitting on the bed, naked to the waist when John and Mary get back. He still has his phone in his hands, John sucks in a harsh breath, at the sight of the Initials carved into his best friend’s back. Mary silently picks up Rebecca and takes her upstairs, Sherlock nods at her as she walks past.

“John, please?” Sherlock asks, reaching down and pulling out scalpel. “This will cause the least pain and do the least damage, while getting rid of them.” He says vaguely motioning towards his back, His voice flat and broken. John looks at the scalpel in horror, but he wraps his fingers around the handle anyway. 

“I will be right back, for now get a clean towel and lay it under you, so you don’t ruin the duvet. If I am going to do this, I am going to do it right, and right means no infection and no pain” Sherlock laughs mirthlessly at that, his eyes haunted and dark. John sighs “right, I will be back."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PTSD flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> head the warnings please, i will add a summery to the notes of the next chapter. this one deals with torture and the aftermath. this isn't a hurt/ comfort fic. how do you "comfort" someone that has been through torture?

John walked back into the room, with a medical kit in his hands. “We need to be very clear, right now; I don’t think this is a good idea. There are better ways of scar removal, and none of them should be done on the patient’s bed.”

“True, but none of them can be done right now” Sherlock replies “and it needs to be done now, before I see them again” 

“Right” John said looking Sherlock’s back over, absentmindedly tracing the initials with his fingers “first we need to get you cleaned up. I won’t risk anything I do getting infected”

Sherlock huffed at that, “I was going to shower, but I could only see them” he waved at his back

John frowns and looks around. “I have an idea” he grabbed a handful of bed sheets; he went around the flat covering every mirror he could find. He walked back into the bedroom and tossed the rest of the sheets onto the bed. Grabbing Sherlock’s arm gently he helped him to stand, “now shower” he said firmly as he walked with him.

he could feel Sherlock’s mind run away from him. 

\---  
One of Moran’s men had his arm, guiding him through the labyrinthine basement of the abandoned factory they were being held in. Sherlock was stumbling, his foot still not healed in the week he has been here, and they bring him out every other day to torture him again.  
He has food and water, and has even been “rewarded” with thin clothing and a sheet, though he is not allowed to wear anything when he leaves their cell. He shudders thinking about what he had to do for those concessions, but can’t help but hope that he will earn another one from today’s session. 

He is led into the normal room; he knows this room, intimately, more intimately than any other room he has ever been in. 

He knows the feel of the floor, under his feet, his back, or his chest; the concrete either, cold and dry, or slick and warmed by his blood. 

He knows these walls, the way they feel when he is strapped to them and the way his voice echoes with his screams, as well as the way that Karen’s voice echoes as her screams hit his ears. 

He knows the ceiling, his only refuge allowed, if it is allowed; the times that he is allowed to look somewhere other than Karen’s body as it broken in front of him, while he stands helpless, or at his captors as they break his body in front of her eyes.  
-  
They both watch him. They are restrained, bound to false support poles that are too close together to be necessary. They are almost touching even though they can’t move, he can feel the warmth of her body next to his. Their arms are bound behind them around the pole.  
They are held on their knees by a system of chains, ropes, and metal rings set into the concrete floor.  
The collars around their necks are fitted with devices to hold their head in position, and are chained both to the rings on the floor, as well as the poles behind.  
They can’t look anywhere else; all they can do is to close their eyes, until their captor forces them to look. 

Moran is smiling as he sharpens the feather in his hand, to a fine point. Sherlock can hear Karen whimper slightly beside him, he doesn’t understand what Moran is planning with the feather, but she obviously does.  
When Moran has a sizable pile next to him, he strides over and gazes at them both as if they are something delightful. Sherlock feels a cold cloud of fear settle over him, as Moran runs his fingers through his hair in a mocking display of a lover’s affection.  
He traces his fingers down Sherlock’s neck and smiles brightly as one of his men steps up and plunges a needle into the vein, under Sebastian’s finger. Sherlock feels his heart speed up; he can see the room getting brighter and hear the sounds around him getting louder. He can’t close his eyes, and every sensation seems to be getting more intense, he needs to be touched, his body is aching for physical contact that he can’t get.

Moran nods over to Karen, and he can hear the rattle of chains and the hiss of rope next to him, he tries to move his eyes to see what is going on but he can’t move quite enough. Finally three of Moran’s men drag her in front of him. The chains and ropes are still attached to her, so they can restrain her to table in the center of the room. One of the men kicks the back of her knee as the other two hold the chains so she is forced to fall to her knees. Moran nods to one of the men behind Sherlock, and he steps forward with another needle. Moran grabs her neck and presses on the vein as the other man shoves the needle into it. The men holding her drag her over to table by her neck as she grasps at the collar trying to keep it from choking her. 

Sherlock is forced to watch and listen to her screams, as Moran pierces her naked body with the feathers, leaving them in place. When every one of them is in place, her voice a mere whimper after screaming for what seems like an eternity, Moran cuts the top off of each of the feathers, leaving about an inch above her body. He leans over her mouth and kisses her, before taking a dropper of clear liquid and emptying it into her mouth, her look of panic melts into one of relief, as she sucks the next several droppers eagerly. 

Sherlock tenses in dread of what is coming next, if he is giving her water, he wants her to be able to scream again. Sure enough, when Moran next produces the dropper, instead of taking the ice cold liquid to her lips, he release it into the shaft of one of the feathers. Another scream is drawn from her lungs. Sherlock can feel the heat of his tears soaking into the strap across his cheek. After an eternity of listening to her screams, he feels another needle plunged into his neck. He looks on as they plunge another needle into her neck as well.  
Moran nods at both of them, and caresses her hair, he stands and lowers his trousers, while he strokes himself over her body. Her harsh breathing the only indication she is still alive. He mummers something to her that Sherlock forces himself not to hear, he is trying to treat his victim as if she was a lover. Sherlock can’t bring himself to allow that thought to exist, he can’t handle seeing the bastard treat her like that. 

Sherlock feels the chains and ropes loosen and he is lifted to his feet by them, his muscles protest after being pinned in place for so long. One of the men unfastens all of his bindings, as another takes his arm again, and leads him back to the cell. He hands him a bag and smiles “you did wonderfully back there” the man purrs, “this is from us. I am sure the master will have more for you when he is done putting away his toys”

Sherlock opens the bag and finds a blanket and a bottle of water, and sure enough there is another bag sitting on the floor in the room. he silently goes about setting up the bed, His body still screaming at him needing to be touched, he finishes just in time to catch the small body being tossed into the room with him, another bag lands next to him. They didn’t even bother to take out the feathers. He lays her on the bed and starts to remove them one by one, tracing her body, giving into the cravings his body has been demanding; by the way she strokes him she must be under the same influence. Once every feather has been removed, their hands become more questing. They are trying to take and give comfort the only way possible, in their situation. both of them are in tears when he finally enters her, holding her body close to his, feeling her warm blood cover him. not enough for her to be willing to stop, she begs him to continue, she is crying and she needs this. the cuts are superficial, that makes them more painful. 

\-----  
He collapses on the floor, sobbing. John is too stunned by the fact that the Great Detective is sobbing at his feet to do anything. John kneels down next to him and places a hand gently on his back, trying to ground him. He can recognize PTSD when he sees it; God knows he has seen enough mirrors, to know that. He just wishes he knew what would and wouldn’t trigger an episode. 

Sherlock slowly comes back to the present; he feels a warm presence grounding him. He turns his head half expecting to see Karen there, the eyes that meet his break his heart. He just wishes he could explain why to John. He doesn’t seem to have to, John just nods his head.  
The look in his eyes says enough. Sherlock stands and starts walking, John is right, he needs a shower “John?” he says his voice barely more than a harsh whisper, “I know this isn’t right to ask but could you please stay? Both of you, I don’t know if I can be alone tonight.” John looks out into the front room and sees Mary sitting on the floor next to the sleeping toddler, she nods 

“alright” he says simply, as Sherlock heads for the shower. 

John shakes his head, this is going to be hard on everyone. What else can he do, watch the greatest man he has ever known and a small child, lose the war they have been fighting her entire life? He can't bring himself to let them down, not when they need him so much, he looks at Mary again and corrects himself, they need them so much. That thought is the only one that gives him the strength to do this, he looks at where his best friend collapsed and wonders what Sherlock has, other than the people in the flat right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will probably be pure fluff.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> or not

John follows him to help him clean his entire back, he looks over each scar with a doctor’s eye and tries to think of the best way to get rid of them with the least damage possible. “Sherlock” he finally says “I am sure you could get these resurfaced. It would be easier on you and there wouldn’t be as much of a risk of infection. Once we get them cleaned I can cover them so you don’t need to see the scars”

Sherlock just nods, there is a hallow look to his eyes, John has no way of knowing what he has and hasn’t heard. John can only continue to lead him along to the bath, and try to get him clean.  
He sits his friend down on the toilet, while he runs the water in the bath 

“Sherlock. Sherlock!” he says a bit louder than he intended. Sherlock snapped his head up at the tone, but John was relieved to see that he was there, body and mind.  
“Okay Sherlock, let’s get you cleaned up.” Sherlock strips the rest of his clothes off and steps into the water sighing contentedly. 

“I had almost forgotten how brilliant a hot bath could feel” Sherlock said as he leaned back. John couldn’t help but gasp at the scars and marks covering the pale skin Sherlock opened one eye to look at him. “Most of them” he supplied 

“Excuse me?” John asked, surprised by the statement 

Sherlock sighed dramatically “you were looking at the scars, it isn’t too great a leap to conclude that you were thinking about how many of them came from my time in Moran’s hands. I know you would recognize the majority that came from before, as you have cleaned and treated enough to know as much about my body as I know about yours, for the same reason. I only have two from after Rebecca was born”  
he raises his hand out of the water and show John a scar down his thumb,  
“and” he says pointing to a small scar just under his ear.  
“The stories behind these are not interesting in the slightest; one was from a glass jar shattering when I opened it, the other, I was hiding and apparently it was the wrong fence” he looked at the doctor seriously “how long did your flashbacks last?” he asked suddenly

“Which ones?” John asked coldly. Sherlock was shocked into silence at the statement.  
Sherlock sat up, picked up the flannel, and tried to wash his back

“Here, let me” John said, in his clipped Doctor Watson tone. He grabbed the flannel out of his friends hand and cleaned his back, trying not to see the marks on his friend’s skin as he did. Once John was sure that it was as clean as he could get it, he nodded and left the room, in order to give Sherlock as much privacy as possible. He left the door open and went to gather some pajymas and taking out his mobile and texting Greg

–any way you could spend a bit of time at Baker St?- 

The immediate reply –of course, what does Sherlock need?-

-just to be surrounded by friends, right now. I think he needs to feel safe-

-be right over-

He looked in on Sherlock, to make sure he wasn’t having a flashback while in the water. His heart broke seeing how exhausted his best friend looked. Sherlock looked at him when he came back into the room. He got out of the bath and toweled off, before accepting the clothes John held out for him. He dressed quickly and wordlessly. He looked distant, but not haunted and not locked in the darkness of the past, just thoughtful, as he walked towards his room, John right behind him. He sat quietly at the foot of his bed when they heard a slight whimper, Sherlock springs to his feet and ran to the sitting room. “I thought you took her upstairs” he snaps

“I did, but she woke up and wouldn’t settle down until she could hear your voice” Mary replied calmly, running her hand over the baby’s forehead “I think she is coming down with a fever” 

Sherlock bounded over to the sofa, and kissed her forehead. He frowned slightly his lips still pressed to her feverish skin, smelling the slight, almost acetone scent to her skin further confirmed his suspicion. “Yes, she is” he said lifting her into his arms “John there are some drops in her bag, get them for me” as he took her into his room. 

John let out a huff as he followed Sherlock into the bedroom and dug through the bag on the floor, bringing up the small vial. He looked at it carefully, to make sure it was the correct one before handing it to his friend, with a raised eyebrow. 

Sherlock looked at him and smiled “I was in America when I bought this, you can hardly expect me to purchase an imported form, simply because you would be more familiar with it. Can you?” he said teasingly. Just as he finished speaking, the little girl in his arms stiffened, cried out, and then started convulsing. Sherlock froze in panic, his little girl seizing in his arms.

“Sherlock!” John shouted at his shocked friend. “Sit down and relax, turn her to her side and time the seizure” he said much more quietly, but with the air of command that came naturally to both Doctor Watson and Captain Watson. 

“How in the hell am I supposed to ‘relax’” Sherlock snapped back at the doctor, trying to follow his instructions, his mind running over every possible thing that could be wrong with his little girl. 

 

“Mary!” John shouted, to be heard in the sitting room “bring me flannels and cool water! Sherlock, unzip her pyjamas”  
John went to work, he shined his penlight in her eyes, noting they were unresponsive didn’t surprise him; Mary came in with a large bowl in her hands. “Pulse rate” he said to her, still counting out how long the seizure was lasting. She took the little girl's pulse as he wiped her bared chest and face with lukewarm water, trying to get the fever down quickly, so her could administer the drops. No time to go to the chemist or even the clinic, to get anything else. He frowned thinking about how quickly the seizure started; it shouldn’t have been that soon after onset, he needed more information, but he couldn’t look anything up until after the crisis. 

“Sherlock, keep her on her side” John said, as calmly as he could, seeing the way her body was jerking. Sherlock made a concerted effort to keep her facing John and Mary while still lying on his lap. Mary wiping her hair and face with one cloth, John wiping down the rest of her body. The sounds coming from her small body were heart breaking, it was all John could do not to cry as he tried to help her get her little body under control. After one particularly violent jerk she started vomiting everything that had been in her stomach, gasping for breath while she was. John pulled her body across her father’s lap so that she didn’t aspirate on her vomit. He looked at his watch again before jumping up to run into the kitchen, praying that his stethoscope was still there. Relief flooded him when his hand closed over the cold metal. He bolted back into the bedroom, and sat down to listen to her lungs. Sherlock and Mary stripped her clothes off and tossed them aside, to be dealt with after the immediate crisis was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it has taken me so long to post this. RL happened, then there was stuff, then things, and general... ya you get the idea


	10. Chapter 10

“It’s a febrile seizure, Sherlock. She isn’t in any danger, just need to make her comfortable until it’s over. Then give her, her drops and put her to bed. I can run some test at the office tomorrow, but it is unlikely that there is any reason to” the doctor said without looking up from his watch. “Just tell me as soon as it ends” 

After what felt like hours Sherlock looked up and said “I think it is over” his voice shaky 

“344 seconds” John said nodding his head, “sit her up” he crossed the room to where his friend was sitting with the little girl still on his lap. “Look at me love” he said to the baby, lifting her head slightly with two fingers under her chin. “Can you be a big girl and look where I tell you” he said calmly. He checked her eyes and made sure she could track his hand, look him in the eyes, and touch her chin to her chest; before he lifted the dropper to her lips. 

Sherlock stiffened when he saw John put the dropper in her mouth, releasing his grip on the girl when she cried out in protest. John couldn’t help but notice the look of panic, but couldn’t understand what it was about the movement that caused the reaction. 

“Sherlock, I am going to check with WHO and the AMA and see what she was likely exposed to over the last few weeks, so I am going to need a list of where you have been in that time frame, and what vaccinations she has had” John said trying to calm both of his patients. 

Sherlock nodded and lifted his daughter, gently placing her on the bed “I will write out a list, forgive me if I am not willing to leave the room without her. I know that it’s not serious, but it doesn’t feel that way” 

John nods, “It never does when it is your own. Do you want me to stay in here? I could get my laptop and look up any reports; I know there are a few things going around and just want to make sure that I know what she has. It is just a precaution” Sherlock looks at the little girl thoughtfully before nodding his head. 

Mary came back in with clean pajymas and cleaned the floor without saying a word, as Sherlock dressed Rebecca. “Thank you”, he said quietly Mary smiled at him in reply. 

Sherlock positioned Rebecca on his lap her head on his chest as he leaned back into the pillows, spreading his hand across her chest and supporting her head with his thumb he lifts his body up slightly and moves another pillow behind his shoulders. John walks in and laughs at the sight of his friend wiggling the pillow behind his head, holding himself up with the back of his head on the headboard. With a triumphant grin Sherlock lowers himself back down onto the pillow and gets comfortable. Stroking the baby’s hair he starts telling her stories about the places they have been. John smiles as he types looking up the epidemiology reports for the various cities that Sherlock is telling stories about, as the little girl falls asleep. Sherlock startles when he hears footsteps on the stairs before he recognizes them, with a sigh he relaxes into the mattress listening to Mary and Lestrade talking in the other room. “has she been vaccinated against measles, pertussis and chicken pox?” John asked 

“Yes to measles and Pertussis, no to Chicken pox, it was difficult to obtain medical care, so I focused on the things that were the most common and the most dangerous first. She can get the chicken pox vaccine any time, now.”

“okay” John says, “just have to look her over and keep an eye out for spots in the next 24 hours” 

He stands up and leans over the little girl as Sherlock unzips her sleeper, he runs a finger down her sternum and looks over her chest, not seeing any spots he nods. “I don’t think she has Chicken pox, it is probably just the flu. But we will need to keep an eye out anyway” he smiles at Sherlock with his normal “Doctor Watson, reassuring a patient” smile. He zips her back up and ruffles her hair, before getting comfortable himself with his computer. Both of them sit in silence and listen to Mary and Greg, talk in the other room. From the foot falls on the stairs and the cheerful animated discussions going on in the sitting room, they must be wrapping presents. John knows Sherlock wants to help them wrap, but he isn’t willing to leave his little girl sleeping alone. He wiggles around a bit restlessly, trying to control the internal conflict. “Sherlock, where do you want to put the ‘elf’ tonight?” he asks “we only have a few days, before Christmas, so we need to plan” he says, knowing he now has his best friends undivided attention, and that the man is going to be distracted enough by planning the next week’s activities, that he isn’t going to worry as much about the little girl. 

Sure enough they get into a discussion about Christmas, until John notices the detective get quiet, he gives him some time to completely fall asleep, before he joins the other two to help finish wrapping, and taking Mary back upstairs to sleep with Greg taking over the sofa. Greg chuckles as John comes back and pulls out a medical text book and stretches an elf doll out to make it look like he is studying, complete with a pencil and paper with notes carefully written out on it. He sets a matching children’s book down on Sherlock’s chair, for Rebecca in the morning.

He collapses into his chair, “what am I going to do, now?” he asks Greg, “I spent the last three years knowing he was dead, only to find out that not only is he alive but he has a daughter. It hurt, but then I found Mary and it started getting better, now he is back, they are back, but they are broken and I don’t know what to do to help them.” He lays his head against the back of the chair defeated. “If this was a case, I could help him, if it was an injury I could save his life, if it was a relapse I could get him help, but this I just don’t know what to do. I barely know what to do with my own mind, let alone someone else’s and when that mind is ‘Sherlock Holmes’ I have no idea where to begin to help him put his life back together” John says dejectedly 

“Well, I don’t know what or if we, and yes this is a ‘we’ Doctor Watson, you aren’t alone and neither is he, I don’t know what we can do to help him, but I think we can help Rebecca, and I think that is what he needs most now. To be able to focus on, himself knowing that they are both safe loved and protected, and that we are willing and able to help him with her. He doesn’t have to let her out of his sight, he just needs a chance to enjoy being a dad, without worrying about what ‘could’ happen if he lets his guard down. For now, we all just stay close, so he knows they are safe, then we follow his lead. Now if you will excuse me, I have a date with the back of my eyelids” with that he smiled and rolled over and went to sleep. 

John sat in his chair thinking about what Greg had said, he knew it wasn’t as simple as Greg was trying to make it out, but he at least got the impression that the older man may have a very good point. Sighing he got up and went back upstairs, after spending last night sleeping in a chair he wasn’t going to be able to function unless he slept in a real bed. Laughing at himself, he wasn’t that young any more. He would make some appointments in the morning to get Rebecca seen and to see about getting the scars on Sherlock’s back resurfaced. That was one thing he knew he could do, take care of the medical side of the situation. The rest would have to come with time and help, hopefully they could get the right help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to get to this


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been torn about this chapter, I have had a hard time deciding whether angst, medical, or fluff.  
> I give you, what may very well be, the last chapter of pure angst in this work.

 Sherlock looked down at the cloth wrapped bundle in his, blood covered, arms. He could still smell the strong copper scent in the air, and the smell of death. He knew they were close behind him and he couldn’t slow down. He had never run so fast in his life, or so long. Terror guiding his feet, he couldn’t see anything he didn’t know if they could get to safety, but he had to try. His lungs burned, from running; his ankle hurt, from twisting it; his eyes stung, from the cold winter air; but still he ran. He prayed that they didn’t have dogs; the smell of blood was so strong they would be easy to track. All of a sudden he felt the ground under his foot give out, he drew the bundle in his arms closer to his chest, and spun his body, falling with a splash into a fast moving river(?) he didn’t have time to think as the current grabbed Rebecca out of his arms and swept her away.

He heard a scream of pain in the distance, but couldn’t recognize the voice. He tried to swim after the baby, nothing else mattered but the newborn infant he was trying to protect. He lost sight of the jacket that was wrapped around her, he heard the scream again, not knowing where it was coming from, or why his throat started to hurt. He curled into a ball and let the warm water try to take him with her, as he sank to the bottom, the pain in his lungs was not from the water. Somewhere in his mind he knew that was wrong, the water shouldn’t be warm, nor is it that deep, it should feel like he was getting stabbed by knives, there is supposed to be a light from a house that he can see from the stream. She was supposed to be in his arms when a young woman opened the door, her husband standing behind her. he is supposed to drop to his knees weak from running for her life. They are supposed to take him inside and let him clean himself and her. They are supposed to give him the blanket she has slept with every night, since she was just a day old. The woman is supposed to get a diaper bag and some bottles, they are supposed to listen to his story. The man is supposed to help him bathe and dress Rebecca. His mind goes painfully blank as he sees the baby, her eyes lifeless, her skin blue, her chest still, her heart stopped. He finally recognizes the screams as his own and briefly wonders how he is screaming under water, before the world goes silent. He prays that he is dead, that there won’t be a world without his daughter, he lost his best friend, his lover, and now his baby, and there is nothing to fight for, not now, not without her. He hears a voice.

There is light, he has her head tucked into his chest. She is wrapped under his shirt, he has her cushioned against his body, making himself look fat. As long as she stays asleep they will be fine, all he needs is for her to sleep for the next few minutes, and she is warm and secure, of course she will sleep, she is only a few weeks old, and she is next to his heart, safe and warm. He has timed this perfectly. He sees Moran and another of his men looking around, as long as he can get past them without them noticing they will be able to get away. He knows that he will, he remembers (?) this part. His head down feigning exhaustion from the warehouse job he is dressed for. The shapeless trousers layered against the cold add to the disguise, he hears them, they see him, they know, how do they know. He takes off running, only to be stopped by Moran in front of him, a long knife comes out of nowhere, and stabs him in his heart, only it gets the wrong one, he stabs the one outside his own body. Blood washes over him, soaking the shirt, the coat, his hand reaches up and is immediately covered in red, too much red. He looks up into Moran’s eyes and sees the other man smile, he knows, how can he know. He looks at the ground the pool of blood is getting bigger, so much bigger, but there is no pain, not really. He grabs his coat and rips it off, his shirt next, he looks down at the baby next to his chest and sees that the blade went through her, he knows she isn’t breathing, he would have felt her breath on his ribs. He collapses, Moran just smiles coldly, the way he did when he would torture Karen and make him watch. Blood is still pouring from Rebecca’s tiny body, pooling around him, up his head where it lays on the ground his tears adding to the growing lake. The earth starts to shake as his body is pulled under the combined liquid, he feels his lungs fill with the viscous solution and nothing more. It is over, they are going to be together, he will never have to walk through a world without Karen or Rebecca again. A strange peace settles over him, as a small voice whispers his name. 

It is dark again; she is just learning how to walk. He has had to teach her to be quiet, he holds her to him. Looking around with his hand over her mouth so she can’t make a sound, they are out there. They are calling for him, mocking him, he covers her body with his own, trying to break-up the outline, so even if they look inside they won’t know that there are people. He knows that it will work as long as they can’t see either of them. There are gun shots and laughter, they think they shot him, but it is the wrong part of the warehouse, he has to maneuver his hand again so that Rebecca can breath, he knows she is scared, he wishes that he could reassure her, but the threat is real. He will have to get her out of here, before the police arrive but after Moran’s men have left. he knows he has to time this perfectly, there is no other way, so he waits, and listens. This is wrong, the men are supposed to leave and he is supposed to hear sirens start to come into range. They are still laughing, it is getting louder and louder, and they start shooting again, this time they are shooting all over the room he tries to block their shots with his body if he has to but it doesn’t work. He hears the loud crack, and sees the bullet go through her. he sees her body fall apart in his arms, his life draining out of her tiny body, his world ending in her eyes. She shatters in his hand porcelain landing around his feet, he grips her clothes tight in his hand the shards cutting into flesh, as he looks over the small form at his feet. Hearing over and over it isn’t real, she isn’t real, she isn’t really there.  

Another scream is ripped from his throat as he feels the world give out from under his body. he hits the ground with a loud thump, looking around the room in panic. Lestrade is standing over him, straining from throwing him bodily out of his bed. John is kneeling on the bed next to where he had just been laying. Mary is standing by the door holding Rebecca. Rebecca is just looking at him, scared, and crying. He jumps up from the floor and Grabs the baby, holding her to his chest crying he falls to his knees, kissing her hair. They all just stand there, guarding the pair on the floor. No one says a word; no one needs to say a word. John picks up the duvet and wraps it around Sherlock’s shoulders, cocooning the little girl next to her father warm and safe.  After a few moments Rebecca’s breathing evens out and she falls asleep again, Sherlock seems to start to nod off still kneeling on the floor. Greg and John reach out and help him to his feet, they carefully guide him to the bed. Sherlock shakes his head, as Greg pushes him gently back into mattress. He looks back to the door, as John lays a pillow and a couple blankets on the floor next to the door. “Sleep Sherlock” Greg says softly, “we are all here, you are safe, it was just a dream”. Sherlock shakes his head again, but doesn’t get up. Greg nods and takes the extra pillow from Sherlock’s bed and one of the blankets John brought and lays them down under the window, and goes back to sleep. Mary looks back in the room and brings a few more blankets for the pair sleeping on the floor, and goes out and takes Greg’s place on the sofa. John closes the bedroom door and lays the blankets flush with the door before he to, goes back to sleep. Sherlock looks at the pair of guards, and starts to relax, he curls up around Rebecca and goes back to sleep. this time the dreams stay away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here there be medical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, pneumonia and computer trouble, made for a difficult update  
> again, my medical knowledge is based on the US, so if there are any glaring inaccuracies, i apologize profusely

He woke to Rebecca whimpering, her fever had returned overnight.He picks up her drops and measures out a dose for her, tipping her head back and fitting the dropper between her lips.  
John jumped to full wakefulness when he heard Sherlock shift in bed. Sherlock looks at him almost surprised that he is still there. John nods at Greg still sleeping under the window. Sherlock pulls Rebecca onto his lap cradling her body, next to his own. Kissing her gently on her forehead, he smiles at her slightly. She grasps his shirt in her little hand and curls into his chest. He leans back and sings a lullaby, stroking her hair. Greg wakes up to the sound of his voice, looking around carefully. John takes a thermometer off of the table next to the drops and fits the cover over the end, looking at it skeptically he brushes her hair back as Sherlock hold her in place 39.4 he frowns at the fever, but nods, it is about what he expected and with as young as she is, fevers that high are fairly common for a viral infection.  
Greg sat down on the bed next to Sherlock and held a damp flannel to the girls head “go get yourself dressed so we can get her checked out and see about your back” John says as Greg lifts Rebecca off of Sherlock’s lap, smiling down at her as he pulls her in for a cuddle. 

“hi baby, I am. I don’t know, what do you want her to call me?” he looked up at Sherlock “uncle, dad’s friend, dad’s babysitter. Oh, whatever, I’m Greg, we met Tuesday. Sherlock she is beautiful, I don’t know if I told you that.” 

\---  
Sitting Rebecca on the table in his office, it seemed so natural. The little girl with her father, Greg sitting on the extra chair while he and Mary looked over the baby. He had looked up the reports, and didn’t see anything particularly concerning. He had Mary prep a blood draw, ‘just a precaution Sherlock, not because I think there is anything serious.’ And ‘she will be perfectly fine Sherlock, fevers are normal’ ‘yes Sherlock even this high, in toddlers is completely normal’ ‘Sherlock I know what I am doing, this isn’t the first time I have had a sick baby in this office’ ‘yes Sherlock I know this is the first time I have had YOUR sick baby in this office’  
Shaking his head at his friend’s antics, he kept the other men in the room to take Rebecca’s history, while Mary and another nurse took Rebecca for her draw. Sherlock paced the small room while he answered all of John’s questions, snapping irritably trying to decide if it was taking too long. When Mary came back in Rebecca was sleeping in her arms, exhausted from the ordeal. Sherlock looked both of them over carefully and relaxed noticeably. His face taking on a strange expression “I am sorry, I should have expected you to take the time to numb her arm for the draw” he looked over at Greg as if trying to get an answer from him “why didn’t I know that she was going to do that?” he asked. “I know what kind of a person she is, I know how much Rebecca means to her and I know that there are agents to prevent the pain. Why didn’t I know she would elect to use one?” the confusion almost heartbreaking 

\---

The doctor leaned over Sherlock’s back, covering it in a cold gel. How Mycroft had gotten him in on such short notice John wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Sherlock surprised John by insisting that the doctors leave two sets of initials, the one's on each shoulder "J.H.W" and, "K.M.L." John brushed his hand over what had to be Karen's initials, even though they were covered with gauze, he felt a strange connection to the dead woman. Mary and Greg were out in the waiting room playing with Rebecca. She seemed to be enjoying the fact that she had adults to play with, Sherlock seemed nervous to have her out of his sight, but John, Mary, and Greg made it clear that she couldn’t be in the room. John tried to appeal to the fact that the doctor needed to keep his concentration on Sherlock and couldn’t afford the distraction. Mary went for the throat, with the fact that Rebecca would be safer in the waiting room, away from the chemicals and lasers the doctor was going to be using. Greg just went with “she would be bored in there, and one bored Holmes was enough” the sedatives that the attending gave him were starting to take over Sherlock’s body the last thing that he said before falling asleep “10:37” John chuckled to himself at the looks of confusion he was receiving. 

“It’s when his daughter had her last dose” he said to the other doctor 

 

John and Greg helped the drugged man into one of Mycroft’s cars, while Mary brought Rebecca along, and buckled her in. “I will be right behind to help with the stairs, but I have to go in tomorrow. I will stop by my flat and pick up a few things to leave at Baker street, until he is ready to be alone,” Greg said “shouldn’t be out long” 

 

John spent the entire trip up the stairs reflecting on how much more difficult it is to help someone walk, when they are  
1.Drugged to oblivion,  
2.Taller than you and  
3\. Entirely unwilling to let you carry them, especially when you have to be mindful of bandaging, burns and damage to their entire back.

After what seemed like an eternity, they managed to drag the lanky brunette through the door and manhandle him into his bed. Mary talking to an exhausted Rebecca, following behind laughing about Sherlock’s antics, even though he could barely hold his own head up 

 

-  
He was running as fast as he could, Rebecca wrapped securely to his chest. Her weight solid under his shirt, her hair just long enough for a few lose curls to pop out of his collar. He could feel the puffs of her breath on his chest.  
He heard the footsteps next to him falter slightly; he reached over to help stabilize her. she put on a burst of speed and stopped right in front of him, and spun bringing her gun up and pointing it behind him. He wrapped an arm around Rebecca and held her tightly, running past Karen.  
He hears the gunshots right behind him, he counts them one-two-three she is saving bullets for now. She spins and runs after him again. He looks up to see the ally-way, John on one side and Mary the other. He grabs Karen’s elbow and runs past them into the ally seeing Greg and Molly waiting for them.  
Pulling Karen along they see a dark car pull up at the other end of the ally, Anthea opens the door, Sherlock can see Mycroft sitting in the back of the car. Greg and Molly shove Karen and Sherlock into the back of the car, before jumping in, John and Mary jump in as the car takes off. Sherlock pulls Rebecca out of the wrap and Karen takes her into her arms, leaning back into Sherlock as he wraps his arms around both of them. He kisses Karen gently on the temple looking down at the baby in her arms, surrounded by the most important people in his life.  
The warm weight of her body an incredible comfort, something tries to call him to consciousness. He tries to resist, he knows that if he wakes up, there will be something missing, and he doesn’t want to face it just yet. 

John looks at his friend sleeping peacefully, a slight smile on his face. He picks Rebecca up and gives her her drops. he takes her to the sitting room, he can’t bear to wake the other man from the first peaceful sleep he has had in, who knows how long.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock woke peaceful state giving way to confusion at not feeling Rebecca next to him, quickly giving way to panic at the pain radiating from his back. Terror flooding his system as the door to the room burst open. He collapsed to the floor from the combination of physical pain, drug addled confusion, and the cold heart stopping fear for his baby’s safety. 

“Sherlock!”John shouted, slamming the door open when he heard the other man’s screams. The broken expression on his face gave way to relief when he recognized the man in front of him, sagging back against the bed ‘his bed’ his mind filled in, they were safe. Mary came in right behind carrying Rebecca; she sat on the floor next to him with the little girl in her lap. She leaned into his arm, John kneeling in front of him his hand on the taller man’s shoulder. Sherlock reached over and stroked Rebecca’s hair, wrapping his other arm around Mary’s shoulder gently. He smiled slightly at the three of them, his shoulders shaking gently with laughter. His entire body relaxing after the ordeal, he gasped slightly in pain as he rubbed his back the wrong way, still not willing to break the mood. “let me get you one of your pain pills” John stated calmly brushing Sherlock’s arm gently as he stood to go collect the medicine. 

Rebecca didn’t know what to do about her daddy laughing. She looked confused between the two adults holding her, before deciding that she liked Mary and John, because they made her daddy so happy. They were warm, and safe, and they smelled nice. They didn’t make her nose, tickle and hurt the way that Anthea did. They didn’t smell yucky like the people that they were often around, the ones that made her daddy hold her a little too tightly, and she didn’t like that feeling. They made her nice things to eat and they played with her. they didn’t pick her up and hold her the same way daddy did, but it felt good when they did. John let her sit in his lap and told her stories, for much longer than most grown-ups would. Mary would carry her, and play with her, she didn’t know what this new feeling was, but she liked it. She liked the big rooms they were in, she liked that daddy liked them. She liked the soft warm bed, and the blankets that didn’t itch or smell funny. She liked that all the grown-ups liked her, even Greg with his scratchy face, when he told stories he made his voice change, which fascinated her. She couldn’t figure out how he did that, no matter how hard she tried, she wanted to know. They were making her laugh and helping her play, even though she felt yucky. They brought her toys and treats, Mary even let her have colour crayons to play with, and stickers, the stickers were her favorite thing, she never knew anything could be this much fun. Sticking the brightly coloured bits to everything she could reach, yesterday she and Greg even laid on the floor and put stickers all over the bottom of the table that her daddy had his feet on. All the grown-ups had thought that was especially funny it made her forget how achy she still felt. She hoped today would be another fun and exciting day, daddy seemed to like those. She, tugged on Mary’s arms “stickers?” she asked. At daddy’s nod she jumped up and ran to the front room, an idea coming to mind, it was the best idea ever. If the stickers could make her feel better, even though she was sick, maybe they could help daddy when he hurt himself while he was sleeping, and woke up screaming or crying. John picked her up as she tried to run into the sitting room, she whined “stickers” looking at him sadly, maybe if he knew she was sad, because she didn’t have stickers he would let her get them, she didn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to have her stickers. They were right there, they were so pretty with their bright colours and pretty pictures. 

“okay, love” John laughed, he really had a nice laugh, "let’s go get your stickers and some paper. May not be a bad idea to give you something quiet to play with, so that you can get over this bug quicker” Rebecca looked at him oddly. Then looked at the floor wondering what bug she was supposed to step over and why it meant she needed to play with a toy that didn’t talk. Did toys talk, she thought, her; purple, lumpy, doggy, thing, didn’t talk, but she had never had another toy so maybe others did. what would their voices sound like if they did, would they be little voices or grow-up voices? 

The thought intrigued the little girl, so much so, that she didn’t notice when John reached down to pick up the pad of stickers and some paper. Thinking quickly he also picked up her new box of colour crayons. He shoved the box in his pocket alongside the bottle of pills before getting a glass of water for Sherlock. Trying to figure out how to carry the; stickers, paper, glass, and toddler at the same time. He handed the little girl her stickers and paper, trying to balance her on one hip, mostly successfully. Picking the glass up with his free (ish) hand, using the arm to help support her, he managed to get everything back into the bedroom. Depositing Rebecca on the floor, he handed Sherlock the glass of water, before fishing the pills out of his pocket, along with the crayons. 

Rebecca got to work as soon as John set her down, putting stickers all over daddy’s shirt. It seemed to be working, the grown-ups were laughing and daddy wasn’t acting like he was hurt. She couldn’t help the small giggle that she let out. She looked at her daddy nervously. Was he going to be upset that she made noise? He hadn’t told her not to, and they were in a room, he had said earlier that it was safe but that was before they left and came back. Was it still safe? “Yes, it is safe angel” daddy told her, he sounded strange, the way he sounds when he talked about mommy, she didn’t like this sort of strange daddy voice, but she didn’t understand why, she hated not understanding why. Relieved she nodded in understanding.

When Sherlock told her it was safe, all three adults had to stifle their laughter at the solemn nod from the little girl. Before she got back to her, apparently, serious work of covering the world’s only Consulting Detective in brightly coloured stickers. She was concentrating hard on getting the stickers off the pad and onto daddy exactly where she wanted them to be, while daddy took his medicine.

When she was satisfied, and daddy was happy again, Mary lifted her back onto her lap so daddy and John could make her take the yucky drops that they kept saying would make her feel better, but they didn’t, she still felt hurty and tired, and the drops tasted bad, but daddy didn’t understand that she still felt yucky, even after she took them. Not for the first time, she thought, grown-ups must not be very smart, not to understand things like that. After she took her drops John brought her something freezy cold and tasty that felt so good on her throat, that it almost made it worth it to take the yucky drops. She leaned into Mary she while daddy petted her hair and John spooned the sweet creamy stuff into her mouth, her eyes feeling heavy even though she didn’t want them to, everyone else was awake, she wanted to be awake. She wanted to play with stickers and have Greg make funny voices, and have Mary teach her new games and sit on John’s lap while he read, and eat the treats Mrs. Hudson baked for her, and look at glowing, blinking lights with daddy and ride in the car with Anthea, and see what pretty things uncle Mycroft brought her. She didn’t like having to sleep, there were so many more fun things to do, why did she have to sleep. Someone wrapped her in a blanket as she fought valiantly against nap time, but being sick, and warm, and comfortable, the achiness drifting from her body like the big bright things her daddy called balloons that float up to the sky, defeat was inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter didn't quite turn out the way i envisioned it, i set out to write a chapter of pre-Christmas fluff, but my hands kept typing a chapter from Rebecca's view point. so this will likely mean that the next chapter is pre-Christmas, then Christmas


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a fairly long chapter, it just didn't seem right to break it up

Sherlock stood lifting Rebecca and placing the sleeping girl gently on the bed. Picking stickers out of her hair, he sat on the bed. “What should we do for the rest of the day?” he asked Mary and John “you two know more about normal Christmas traditions then I do, so I will take your suggestions” 

Mary sat on the other side of the bed, John at the foot, Rebecca protected in the center of the three adults. “We have her presents, most of them are wrapped” Mary started “she already has a gingerbread house, though decorating one herself may be fun, if she were feeling better” 

John shook his head a bit, “tomorrow is Mrs. Hudson’s Christmas party; she needs to rest up if she is going to be able to handle that” 

“We have access to one of Mycroft’s cars and a driver, we could go listen to carolers, look at fairy lights, or just go to Angelo’s for dinner, and come back here to watch a Christmas movie or two” 

Mary smiled at the little girl on the bed, her little hand still gripping Sherlock’s shirt tightly, even in sleep. She lightly stroked the little girl’s hair “If you want my opinion, we could listen to carolers and get some takeaway, then come back here and watch movies. If she gets tired or if you are in too much pain we can come home and rest.” Sherlock started to protest about his physical condition, until he was silenced by a look from Mary. “No Sherlock” she snapped defiantly “she knows when you are in pain” she shakes her head as he tries to interject “she knows Sherlock! And, if you are in pain she will be worried about you” she looks at him pointedly, daring him to try to interrupt her again, he smiles at her impressed and nods for her to continue “she needs to relax, rest, and recover. Not to worry about her daddy. Any more than necessary” Mary concedes. 

A small whimper from the baby stalls any other argument that Sherlock could have made. Sherlock curls his body around his daughter. “fine” he says “you two decided where we are going and pick a few movies to watch” he yawns loudly at that point “ I am going to try to get a bit more sleep” with that he curls his body around Rebecca and closes his eyes. John takes his position a sentry next to the man, as he and Mary plan out the rest of the day.

Rebecca woke to the sounds of John and Mary’s voices. She climbed over her daddy, to sit in John’s lap and listen. They were talking about something called movies and something special, and going to see someone called Carol, and where they were going to take something away to eat. John’s arm tightened around her as he lifted her completely onto his lap, pulling her head to his chest as she relaxed against him. 

John reaches over and shakes Sherlock awake, “are you ready to go?” he asks, holding Rebecca in one arm. Looking down at the little girl he is surprised how quickly he has gotten used to having a child in his life. Looking at Mary he can see she is having a similar thought, even with what they have gone through in the past week, it almost feels like she has always been there, like she should be there. He sighs kissing her curls; he knows there is nothing he wouldn’t do for her. He can only imagine how much stronger that feeling must be in Sherlock. How has this child barely old enough to walk and talk, gotten through walls that it took so many years for him to build up? Resting his head on hers, he smiles, his mind taking him to a future with a dark haired preteen sitting on the floor with a blonde toddler on her lap. Watch the older child play with the other baby, or sitting on a bed doing school work, while another little girl that looks like Mary begs her to play, or lifting a little boy onto a swing while the adults watch fondly, at the pair of giggling children. He thinks forward to another Christmas morning with three children at the tree playing with their new toys, Rebecca looking up at them at them smiling brightly. Dark curls between the pair of blondes. No sign of the shy nervous toddler left, after years of being safely tucked between the three of them. He never knew he wanted children, until he had one in his arms. Mary walks over and he wraps his arm around her. His heart breaks as thoroughly as it heals, the sharp pain that comes with knowing the little girl isn’t his, his heart telling him an entirely different story. “Sherlock” he says looking up at his best friend “please...” his voice chokes slightly “please, whatever happens.” He shakes his head, not knowing how to give voice to what his heart is screaming at him.

Sherlock looks at him, placing one hand on his shoulder “John, you have to know that you are as much a part of her life as I am, because you are too much of my life, not to be one. John if anything had gone wrong with my plan I would have died, and I was ready for that. I would have died to keep you safe. I didn’t want to, obviously, but I was prepared for that to happen. While I was away, there were times we came close, we only stayed alive because of you. John,” he says looking into his best friend’s eyes, “I owe you my life, as well as hers.” Placing his other hand on Mary’s arm, he looks between the two of them “would you two do us the honor of being her God-parents, and if anything should happen to me, would you promise to raise her as your own?” he asks smiling knowing that he has read the two of them correctly, and coming up with a solution for all of their fears “now, I believe we have some Christmas traditions to introduce Rebecca to”. 

John giggles, causing everyone in the room to look at him, his delight brightening the mood for everyone. He lifts Rebecca higher on his hip so she can rest her head on his shoulder. He reaches down and grabs her drops ‘just in case’ and swings her around gently kissing Mary as he all but skips out of the flat. Sherlock tosses a small bag over his shoulder, and leads the way to the waiting car. 

As they drive the car is filled with cheerful chatter, the three adults as well as the little girl talking about the lights, the music and the general atmosphere. The driver looks back and frowns slightly “is she feeling better” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“A bit” John answers for everyone “it isn’t a serious illness, so no worries. She just feels a bit off, she should be fine in a few days”

“Poor mite, going to be sick through Christmas” the driver says sympathetically “never fun when they aren’t well. Just make sure that baby gets better soon.” 

Rebecca stares out the window listening to the signing and watching the lights, everything is so different now, she looks at her daddy seeing him still smiling makes her feel warm and different, he still has his hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair. His eyes close as he settles comfortably into the seat, she looks across from her at John and Mary, they are holding hands, John is looking between daddy and her with a soft look that makes her feel warm, and Mary is looking out the window the same way daddy does, watching the people, that makes her feel safe. She cuddles back into her seat, she liked the big rooms they were in but Daddy, John, and Mary are here, and Mary even remembered to bring the stickers, so even if they are leaving again, this will be nice. She will have all three of them, and she still has her purple doggy. They pull up in front of a shop and Mary gets out of the car, Rebecca whines a bit until Mary leans in and kisses her “I will be right back, and then we are going home. Okay, love?” Rebecca just nods leaning into daddy’s hand a little more, before she hears a strange sound that makes daddy reach into his pocket and pull a small box out. He looks at the box and nods his head before pushing a few buttons on it, Rebecca stares fascinated by the event. John’s laugh brings both of their attention to him. “the way she was watching you on your phone, Oh Sherlock, you are in so much trouble” he teased “we have a smaller version of you on our hands, don’t we” Mary opened the car door to hear Sherlock and John laughing, the smells coming from the bags in her hand made Rebecca hungry just smelling them. 

When they got home, Mary handed the bags to John, as Sherlock unfastened the child seat and lifted Rebecca out of the car. He winced slightly when he stood up but he wouldn’t let Mary carry her up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson opened the door before they could unlock it and let them in, she fussed over the group a bit before telling the she was bringing a plate of goodies she just baked up. All the adults laughed as Rebecca perked up on hearing that. At a knock on the door Sherlock stiffened a bit, tightening his grip a bit before shaking his head ruefully. “That would be Lestrade?” he said “He sent me a text earlier telling me he was on his way back over” he still stepped back angling Rebecca so that the adults were between her and the door, as John opened the door. Sure enough Greg stood on the other side with a bag in one hand a duffel in the other and another slung over his back “are we ready to watch some Christmas movies?” he asked making his way in. Mary smiled grabbing the shop bags out if his hands and taking the lead up the stairs, her eyes alert scanning the entire area before stepping into the flat. Greg right behind Sherlock and Rebecca protected in the center with Mrs. Hudson and John following. Sherlock knew that they were safe but he appreciated the fact that his friends were willing to do this for him, to make him feel safe. He kissed the top of Rebecca’s head, she seemed to find coming back to 221 a welcome surprise, he wondered briefly how long it would take to wipe away the damage he had caused her for the first two years of her life, but he refused to let that effect him now, this was about her, and trying to make the pain he had caused her up to her, he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her, if he had to. 

John and Greg moved the furniture out of the middle of the sitting room as Sherlock got Rebecca’s nappy and clothes changed and got her ready for bed. Mary got blankets and pillows and made a nest in the middle of the room, a comfortable place for them to sit around watching movies. A light rap at the door startled everyone, John and Mary went to high alert as Mrs. Hudson frowned at the door, Greg moved past to go answer the door for them, his frown turning into a delighted smile when he saw who stood on the darkened street, stepping out slightly to take a stack of wrapped boxes from the small pathologist in front of him he ushered her upstairs. “Sorry, I thought it may be a good idea to bring these over early, I also have a bag of sweets for Rebecca since I heard she wasn’t feeling well” Molly said stumbling slightly over the words “but I see you are busy so I should probably just..”.

“No, please stay” Greg said, “um… that is, if you want to” he finished lamely running his hand over the back of his neck, nervously.

 

“We were just settling in, to watch movies and eat some takeaway, there is enough for one more, it just means the boys won’t have leftovers for breakfast” Mary said rolling her eyes slightly, giggling with Molly and Mrs. Hudson. “If you could help me set this up or help Mrs. Hudson with the food?” 

“Of course” Molly replied, taking a duvet and tossing it onto the pile before she and Mary took opposite sides and straitened it out. Sherlock knelt down and tossed a giggling toddler into the pile of pillows next to them. Mary reached down and scooped the little girl up, before her dad could stop her.

“Ha! Now I have you” she laughed playfully, as Sherlock reached out for the girl. She dodged his hands easily, laughing as he chased the two of them around the flat, obviously not really trying very hard to catch them “nope” Mary giggled “I get to hold her now” as Sherlock reached out for her, she saw what he was going to do, but with the little girl in her hands she was helpless to stop it. ‘Of course he would deduce exactly where she was ticklish’ John thought, laughing as Sherlock assaulted Mary right under her ribs, as she fell to her knees laughing trying to flail enough to dislodge Sherlock while not letting go of Rebecca, her hand moved once and Sherlock struck fast as a snake, grabbing the still giggling child out of her hands and running off, Mary jumped up to follow. 

The adults in the room laughed at their antics, as Sherlock collapsed into the nest, clutching Rebecca to his chest, Mary getting her revenge upon his bare feet, grabbing his ankle and running her finger nails up and down the arch of his right foot. Stopping suddenly at a sharp word from Mrs. Hudson, “if you children are quite through, it is time for us to eat, and I would appreciate it if you could behave yourselves long enough for supper” she said with a mock stern voice. 

John turned the movie on as everyone made themselves comfortable, between the makeshift nest and sofa they ate in companionable silence, enjoying the movie and the company. Sherlock watched Mary, surprised that while they were playing she knew how to avoid anything that would trigger a flashback. How had she known that if she grabbed his ankle at or below the joint, he would have frozen? Instead she held him well above the joint, even though it was an unusual angle. 

As soon as they were finished with dinner Mrs. Hudson brought out a tray laden with treats, the one’s she baked and the things Molly had brought, Rebecca’s eyes lit up when John produced another bowl ice cream. “As soon as you take your drops, love” he told her. She pouted but obediently opened her mouth to take her medicine, grimacing at the taste. Then looking at him expectantly, waiting for her treat. Sherlock picked up the spoon and fed it to her, as she snuggled into John’s lap. Finishing the small treat, she looked hopefully towards the tray on the coffee table, not sure what she wanted to try first and too tired to walk all the way across the room to pick anything out. Molly solved both of her dilemmas by making her a small plate with little bites of several different things, and bringing it over to her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and cue Christmas

Sherlock woke in the nest they had made in the middle of the floor, curled around Rebecca. John and Mary were on the other side of Rebecca. Molly had left late the night before; Lestrade was sleeping on the sofa. The soft nest and warmth from the room beckoning him back to sleep. He stretched slightly, smiling as Rebecca nuzzled into him further. He spent a moment trying to decide if he could extract himself from the nest without waking Rebecca, before deciding the risk wasn’t worth it. Smiling brighter, he snuggled in more. Content to just enjoy her weight on him, the feeling of safety permeating their flat, he relaxed completely into the moment. Coming back to himself he noticed the room had gone silent, the snores having ended, but no one was willing to move, the companionable feeling from previous evening still settled over the room. Mary rolled on her side, John with his head hooked over her shoulder, both watching the pair fondly, Greg flung over the sofa, obviously wanting coffee but not wanting to trip over any of the bodies on the floor, not being awake enough to navigate the blanket and body strewn flat without tripping. John took pity on the older man “who wants coffee?” he asked everyone in the room, Sherlock and Mary both said yes, Greg nominated him for sainthood. Sitting up and turning to lean back against the sofa, Sherlock settled Rebecca’s head on his lap. 

That was the scene Rebecca woke to, curled up next to her daddy, John and Mary on the chairs, Greg sitting on the sofa, all talking quietly trying not to disturb the little girl. One of Sherlock’s hands was holding his coffee, the other stroking her hair gently. Noticing that she was awake, he finished his coffee and lifted her off the blankets, and “now we need to get you ready for the day” he said spinning her around in his arms gently. 

The party went exactly as he had planned; Mrs. Hudson invited Mrs. Turner over to meet her newest little lodger, cooing over the sick little girl. John and Mary announced that they were getting married “obviously” Sherlock’s immediate reply, but even he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. Molly brought her new fiancé to meet everyone. John kicked Sherlock in the shin every time he started to say anything to the man. Mycroft and Anthea even put in an appearance, with several books and games for Rebecca, a bottle of wine for John and Mary, a new tie for Greg, a beautifully jeweled hairclip Molly, with matching tie clip for Tom, a cashmere throw for Mrs. Hudson, they even had box of imported chocolates for Mrs. Turner, and some envelopes for Sherlock, containing information about the trust fund that Mycroft and their parents had set up for Rebecca, as well as a card from mummy and father, with the obligatory request to visit, and a letter in which, they insisted upon meeting the little girl “before she was old enough to get married” Sherlock smiled slightly almost able to hear his mother making demands while his father wrote. 

“Obviously, you know what will happen if you fail to comply with her commands” Mycroft said coolly, both men shuddered slightly at that. Knowing what their mother was like when she decided something was going to happen. 

“Clearly” Sherlock replied, both men shared a look that no one else, except Anthea and possibly John would recognize as their Holmes equivalent of a private joke. 

Mycroft nodded to the guests and begged his leave, Rebecca running over to him and handing him and Anthea “cards” she and Greg had made, the cards consisting mostly of drawing paper covered in stickers. Anthea picked the toddler up and thanked her, kissing her on the forehead, and promising that when she felt better they would go out and have a “fun day”. 

Mycroft even gave the little girl a real smile, as he ran his fingers through the hair that reminded him of another toddler so long ago, though that one not nearly so silent as the baby next to him. 

Once they had left, Greg pulled out some boxes he had hidden behind the tree for Rebecca. “These are from the other Yarders, you will get mine in the morning, but I promised pictures to the guys” 

Sherlock looked skeptical, as Rebecca opened her present from Donovan. Changing to a delighted laugh when the little girl pulled out a miniature lab coat and child sized safety goggles the little girl looked confused between the set and the way all the adults were smiling and laughing about it. Greg took several pictures and had a hard time deciding which one to send to Sally. “Oh just pick one, you can email the rest to her tonight” Mrs. Hudson told him, putting the set on the little girl. In the end he sent her three, one while she was opening it, one after she had opened it with her holding the coat, and one wearing the set. Anderson got her several children’s science books. Dimmock got her a toy microscope. 

After opening her presents Greg lifted the little girl into his lap, and the pair decorated pictures with stickers until she fell asleep in his arms. Settling back into the sofa with the sleeping girl, her weight a solid comfort, he fell asleep before long himself. Mary walked by and tossed an afghan on the sleeping pair. “It is so nice having a little one around the house, especially at Christmas” Mrs. Hudson said, as they were cleaning up quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping pair. As soon as the flat was to her liking she nodded to her boys “well you two may as well bring her presents down, so Father Christmas can make his visit.” They were up the stairs in a flash, before she even got the chance to finish half of her sentence. She shook her head laughing, as Mary cleared a place to stack all of Rebecca’s presents. 

With all four of them working, it didn’t take long to organize the presents around the tree. Once they were done, Sherlock lifted Rebecca out of Greg’s arms. The other man’s hand grabbing his wrist in a crushing grasp before he realized who it was. “Oh God, Sherlock, sorry mate, but you almost gave me a heart attack” shaking his head, he rubbed his hand over his face. Sherlock just smiled at him proudly, even though his wrist must have hurt. The feeling that his friend was willing to do that to protect his baby was hard for him to describe. 

Nodding towards his bedroom he simply said “I am taking her to bed, you are welcome to sleep wherever you are most comfortable. John and Mary will be taking John’s room.”

Greg stood and stretched, “I will probably kip on the floor in yours, if you don’t mind, the sofa two days in a row, is murder on my back” 

Smiling John went around the flat setting up finishing touches for the morning. Including pulling the Christmas presents Mary had purchased for Sherlock, hidden in plain sight mixed in with all of Rebecca’s boxes and bags. John even managed to surprise Mary by pulling out six filled stockings, one for the little girl and one for each of the adults. He went around the flat turning out lights, before taking Mary’s hand and leading her upstairs. Looking around one last time, seeing everything in order, he sighed contentedly, kissing his fiancé, and shutting the bedroom door. This was going to be an amazing holiday, for all of them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there is sufficient interest I may write one more chapter, otherwise i think this ends on the right note.  
> thanks for all the hits, the, kudos and the comments. it really lets me know when i am taking the story in the right direction.
> 
> love you guys


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here it is, the final chapter. I think I like the way this turned out.

Lestrade stepped out of the shower, the heat from the water relaxed him to the point he would sleep wherever his head hit.  
Properly prepared for the night he walked into Sherlock’s bedroom. He smiled fondly at the little girl curled up next to her daddy.  
He couldn’t help the wistful feeling, wishing he could have seen her first step, her first words, and her first smile. Feeling that someone had taken that from him, he knew the anger was irrational, but he still felt it. He brushed her hair back, and kissed her forehead. He felt the blanket being pulled out from underneath him.  
“Thought you were asleep” he told Sherlock. 

The younger man hummed in acknowledgement, pulling the duvet down farther in obvious invitation.  
“You know what your back is going to be like in the morning, if you don’t sleep in a real bed” 

Greg chuckles, stretching out next to the sleeping girl, “at least this time, I don’t have to worry about you getting sick all over my carpet” 

Sherlock chuckles sleepily in reply, as Greg rests a hand lightly on the sleeping girl, letting the rise and fall of her chest lull him to sleep, silently promising the pair, anything that tried to hurt her, would have to get through him first. The paternal feeling welling up, nothing that would surprise anyone that knew him. Toddlers and kittens, Greg thought, they can sneak their way into any heart.

Rebecca woke confused by the fact that there was another adult in bed other than daddy, before she recognized Greg.  
She had never woken up feeling so warm and safe, and excited, after how much fun the past few days were, she really liked this place. Daddy kept calling it flat, but it was rooms that were shaped like boxes, they weren’t flat. She sighed in exasperation “silly daddy” she thought to herself he was always saying the strangest things.  
She was too excited to stay in bed, but daddy was asleep so she couldn’t get up. It was hard to stay still, when all she wanted to do was play, but daddy hadn’t told her she was allowed yet. 

Sherlock and Greg woke to Rebecca squirming between them. Sherlock stretched as he stood, he threw his dressing gown over his shoulders. Rebecca bounced in place a bit, obviously excited, everyone had been telling her today was a special day. Gregg tickled the squirmy child mercilessly, causing giggle fits that would likely wake John and Mary, if not half the neighborhood. Sherlock scooped the giggling toddler up, and swung her playfully out of Greg’s reach. Greg grabbed her foot as Sherlock swung her, tickling the soft pad. Rebecca kicked out, knocking a stack of books onto the floor with a loud bang. Both adults froze for a heartbeat, the little girl looked startled and upset but not hurt. Greg, jumped back to the game to distract the toddler, Sherlock took his cue and started tickling the girl as well, until the door to the bedroom slammed open. John and Mary stood on the other side, ready for anything, except, apparently, the sight of two adults and a baby giggling in the middle of the floor. Sherlock waved at the books, John looked heavenward, praying silently for the patience to deal with the three children in the room. 

“I think I should go tell Mrs. Hudson that everyone is awake and uninjured by what sounded like a bomb, going off. If she wants to bring up breakfast and open presents” Mary said laughing. Rebecca looked pleadingly at her daddy.

“Of course” he replied mocking exasperation “go see what Mrs. Hudson has baked for breakfast” the little girl wasted no time, in running after Mary. She froze looking at all the pretty boxes around the tree. John turned on the lights, and Rebecca’s eyes got even wider, the twinkling lights reflecting on the paper and bows and casting a colorful glow across the entire room. 

Mary reached out her hand “the sooner we get downstairs, the sooner we can eat and open presents” she told the little girl. Rebecca took the offered hand fascination slowing her down, Mary could see that wouldn’t last long before the excitement took over, so she scooped Rebecca up and hurried her pace a bit to get down the stairs. As soon as they got downstairs the delicious scents of Christmas baking greeted them.

The door flew open as soon as they knocked, Mrs. Hudson holding a tray in her hands smiling, “Happy Christmas” she greeted the girls, “now let’s get upstairs” for breakfast and presents. Mary sets Rebecca down and hands the little girl ‘her own tray to carry’, Rebecca preened at being allowed to help and carried the plate up carefully, Mary taking the other tray and following. “I will send the boys down for the rest. With my hip, I don’t know how many times I can take the stairs.” 

-  
Mary was sitting in John’s chair, with John perched on the arm, Mrs. Hudson was sitting on Sherlock’s chair, Sherlock and Greg were sitting on the floor, Rebecca was scampering between all five adults.  
Eating breakfast and going through their stockings, the little girl was excited about everything, in the manner of toddlers everywhere. Mrs. Hudson had made it clear there would be no presents opened until everyone had finished breakfast, and none of the adults were brave enough to try to thwart her will.  
Though, Sherlock had convinced her to let them go through their stockings while they ate, or more to the point, let Rebecca go through their stockings while they ate. Her plate was being passed around, the adults feeding her a bite here and there, as she “helped” them with their stockings. Currently she was sitting on Mary’s lap, John feeding her, looking fascinated by the bracelet John had given Mary. She had to jump up to see what else was in daddy’s stocking, pulling out the treasures, one by one, and handing them to daddy. John passed her plate to Greg, the little girl barely seemed to register that she was eating, in her excitement. As her plate followed her around, she finally stopped long enough to question how food kept ending up in her mouth. She looked at her plate almost as if it was magically feeding her. Daddy was holding it; she looked at the circle suspiciously. She tried to lift it to see the bottom, for some reason daddy wouldn’t let her. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about the top of the plate, it must be something under the plate, why else wouldn’t daddy let her see to bottom. She was trying to understand how the food could go from the plate to her mouth without her noticing, she was determined to figure this puzzle out. Mrs. Hudson managed to sneak another bite to the toddler, not breaking her reverie. 

Sherlock managed to position everyone so that Mycroft’s cameras would get the best possible view; he had told his brother the night before he wanted copies of the videos he was filming, and any important future videos. He knew the video would also be sent to their parents, who were out of the country for the holiday. He wondered what their reaction to Rebecca would be, this would be an interesting year for them, he thought. two weeks ago they had no idea if their younger son was still alive, let alone back in the country. When you add in their first, and likely only grandchild, there was really no way to avoid them visiting,or bringing Rebecca around to visit them. 

-  
He set the sleeping girl carefully in the bed; she still had her hippo in her chubby hand. The presents were opened, the paper was cleared away. Rebecca had spent the entire morning showing everyone her new toys, and clothes, and movies, and games. The adults had played with the toddler for hours, until the little girl fell asleep on John’s lap. 

Sitting down next to her, he brushed her hair off of her face. Smiling gently he traced her face with a single finger, something he did so frequently he didn’t even think about it anymore. Cataloging her features, tracing and memorizing, even the smallest resemblance to Karen. The way it soothed his heart, seeing her in the face of the one person he would always love above any other. The comfort that it brought him was as vital to his existence as the air he breathed.  
They had both risked their lives for this little girl, and bringing her safely into the world had cost Karen her life. He wished it would have been him, but the gift she had given him, and the trust she had placed in him, was everything. He would spend his life trying to be worthy of that gift, even if he failed at everything else, he was determined to succeed at this. 

John watched the scene from the doorway smiling, the peaceful look on his best friend’s face. The way he obviously looked for her mother’s features, and cherished them, could melt any heart.  
There was no question as to how he felt about the sleeping girl, or the woman that gave birth to her. That a child born of such tragedy could bring such joy to everyone that knew her, was one of the greatest wonders of the world. The younger man had to know he was there, and what he was thinking, but he was too absorbed in the wonder of the moment to acknowledge John’s presence, let alone thoughts.

Sherlock moved over slightly, giving John silent permission to join them. Crossing the room quietly, John placed a gentle hand on the little girl’s chest, feeling her breathing and the wonder of her heart beating under his hand. He couldn’t begin to explain how honored he felt to be a part of this, to be allowed access and even trusted with the little girl that changed the world for everyone that knew her. That the woman that was going to share his life with him had also been granted the right was more than he could have dreamed possible.  
This is what family is, this is what love is. Not the quasi relationship and pretense of loyalty, he had with Harry, let alone the volatile relationship he had, had with his mother while she was alive.  
The feeling of rightness when he held Rebecca; the quiet desire he felt for Mary, wanting to be celebrate the best with her, and carry the worst with her; the way Mrs. Hudson did things for them because that was how she showed her love, and when he would help her fix a problem in her flat reminding her “not your handyman”; the way Sherlock had let him in completely, the way he had changed in the years they knew each other.  
That was family, that was love, that was what he needed. He kissed the little girl on the forehead, standing he placed his hand gently on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Mrs. Hudson wanted me to tell you she is going down to finish dinner. It should be ready about the time Rebecca wakes up,” he said, “we are going to straighten up the sitting room, if you decide to join us, but you don’t have to.” He left the invitation open, but he knew that the younger man wanted nothing more than to relax and enjoy some quiet time alone with his daughter, and he was happy to give him that. “Happy Christmas Sherlock” John said as he walked out of the room. 

“Happy Christmas John” Sherlock replied  
“Happy Christmas Karen” he whispered to the air, wanting to believe that somehow she could see them, and knew they were safe, and that they were loved. The slight breeze that stirred the room caused him to smile. even if it was cold, he wanted to believe that it was her, so he allowed himself the moment of sentiment, it couldn't hurt to believe.

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of a dream i had and a conversation from last night, it basically started to write itself.  
> i wrote it for my benefit, so not brit-picked or beta-ed


End file.
